by Lizzie Lane
Loneliness suddenly overwhelmed her. There was not another human being in sight.
‘Harry?’
Her heart seemed to stop. Without Harry, the reason for her doing this, there was no point in running away.
‘Harry!’ she called again, this time more urgently than before.
A sound of lapping came from where the river swirled against the adjacent bank.
Joanna’s heart stopped racing. Harry was merely slaking his thirst.
The barn was very dark. Enough daylight remained for her to see where straw bales had been piled in the far corner.
Feeling her way over tumbled straw, she eased herself into a snug gap between walls made of bales. Harry followed her in, sniffing and snuffling at the straw all the way.
Once settled down on the straw, she groped in her satchel for the pieces of rabbit she’d brought with her. Harry wolfed them down while she nibbled her way through some bread and cheese. It wasn’t much but would keep her going. Paul had told her there were fish here. Perhaps she could catch one for their next meal, though she’d never fished in her life.
Cold and tired, she snuggled down against Harry’s warm body. To keep them extra warm she pulled some of the loose straw over them.
The day had been long and although she thought she had planned her escape well, she still didn’t have any real idea of where to go.
It was late morning when she finally woke up. Harry was eating the last of his food. She got out a last piece of pie from Mrs Allen.
The day was spent ambling alongside the river. Joanna considered going back to the shop she had passed the day before, but she decided to wait. Something might turn up and there was still the prospect of fishing or catching a rabbit. She’d also had the foresight to bring a box of matches. She might be able to cook something and perhaps pick apples. There were bound to be some left somewhere.
Tonight she would sleep and consider her options in the morning.
In the morning a weak sun had broken through the sky turning it a dirty lemon colour. Ducks quacked on the river, welcoming the morning mist that rose like steam into their watery world.
Her arm wrapped around Harry’s neck and snuggled close to his side, Joanna slept on.
Harry lifted his head. He had heard the ducks but was presently staring at the gates through which they had entered the field.
His nose quivered and his whole body stiffened, his gaze fixed on the direction from where the sound was coming.
Beyond the barn a tractor trundled its way through the iron gates. Its driver, Jim Sanderson, had farmed the meadows bordering the River Avon for years. His father had done the same before him and his father before that. He was lean and wiry, his weathered complexion etched with lines. Tired eyes peered out from beneath a flat cap and two days of hair growth bristled on his chin. In peacetime he had taken a shave each day. Nowadays he just didn’t have the time.
A number of farm labourers had ditched working the land in favour of joining the armed forces. Some had been conscripted, leaving Jim with a heavier workload than he would normally have.
A few more days and the land girls he’d been allocated would put in an appearance. He’d held out against having them, arguing that women weren’t as tough as men and wouldn’t pull their weight. He’d had to reconsider once he was down to just two male labourers and they were all working from dawn to dusk, grumbling that the work was hard and if they’d been young enough they would be off fighting.
The trailer he was pulling behind the tractor was piled high with hay that he intended to store alongside the straw already in the barn. The cold depths of winter, when he intended moving cattle into the riverside field, were not that far away. At least here the cattle would have a straw bed and shelter if the weather did get bad. They’d also have hay if it should snow and they couldn’t get to the grass.
By shunting the tractor backwards and forwards, he got the trailer lined up outside the barn entrance, making it easier to offload.
Satisfied he’d done that, he switched off the engine and clambered down.
The little girl stared at him, her arms around the neck of what looked to be a golden cocker spaniel.
Surprised, Jim nudged his cap with two fingers sending it further back on his head. ‘Well I never! Now what might you be doing ’ere?’
The little girl looked terrified. A low growl rumbled in the dog’s throat.
Jim smiled. He rather liked dogs and from what he could see he had indeed been right about the breed. An English cocker, once trained, was a very good gun dog.
‘All right, buster,’ he said addressing Harry. ‘No need to get worried. I’m not going to hurt anybody.’
Something about his amiable smile and the way he spoke seemed to get through to the young dog. Harry stopped growling and eyed the farmer with interest.
Jim reached down and patted his head. ‘Now,’ he said, turning to Joanna, ‘have you had any breakfast?’
Joanna shook her head. Running away was all very well, but the night had been cold and the little food she’d brought with her was already gone.
‘Well, just you wait till I unhitch this trailer and we’ll go get some. Bacon and eggs all right with you?’
Joanna, her stomach gurgling at the prospect of a proper cooked breakfast, something she hadn’t enjoyed for a very long time, nodded enthusiastically.
For the first time in her life – and in Harry’s for that matter – she rode on a tractor, cramped in front and sitting on the farmer’s knees.
Harry balanced on a ledge to the side of the seat. His ears blew in the breeze as they trundled along the road, but the breakfast at the other end was worth any prior discomfort.
Meg Sanderson, Jim’s wife, raised her eyebrows and put her hands on her ample hips when she saw her husband arrive back home early and with passengers on board.
Before going inside, Jim whispered in his wife’s ear. Her pink face was merry enough but lit up even more when she smiled. She nodded that she understood.
‘Leave it with me,’ she said to him softly. ‘You go and do what you have to do. Now,’ she said, turning to Joanna. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Joanna Ryan.’
‘And what about him? What’s his name?’
‘He’s Harry. We got lost.’
‘Well, never you mind. First let’s get some breakfast inside you and then we’ll try to get you sorted. Nobody wants to stay lost for ever now, do they?’
She chatted as she fried bacon and eggs. ‘Hope you like field mushrooms. Picked them this morning I did. Care for a sausage?’
Joanna stared at the plate that was placed in front of her. Bacon, sausage, egg and fried bread.
Harry got a plateful of dog biscuits and cold meat that looked to Joanna suspiciously like the rabbit he was used to. He’d finished what she’d brought with her the previous night.
Meg Sanderson saw her looking. ‘We’ve got a lot of rabbits round ’ere. Vermin they are. Jim, that’s my husband, shoots them. Got more rabbit than we know what to do with. Could do with a dog like you got to go shooting. Proper gundog that is. So where were you going, you two?’
Joanna was taken by surprise and instantly swallowed the mouthful of food. She used the same explanation she’d given the bus driver. ‘I’m visiting my grandmother.’
‘Really? P’raps I know ’er. What’s ’er name then?’
Joanna pretended to concentrate on chewing a piece of crisp bacon while she thought of a suitable name. ‘Thomas,’ she said at last. ‘Mrs Thomas.’
Where the name had come from she wasn’t quite sure. She didn’t know a Mrs Thomas, though the head of Victoria Park boys’ school, the one she had seen with Elspeth, was called Mr Thomas.
Jim Sanderson had gone into the other room when she’d first sat down at the table. He nodded at his wife when he came back in. Meg gave him a pinched smile and Joanna detected a shifty look in her eyes. Meg Sanderson knew where her husband had been and what he’d been doing
.
‘That’s a nice dog you’ve got there,’ he said to Joanna as his wife poured him a cup of tea. ‘I’d like a dog like that. If ever you don’t want him, there’s a home for him here.’
Joanna was defiant. ‘He’s my dog. Harry and me will be together for ever! We’re orphans. Both of us.’
Jim’s smile remained along with the look of pity in his eyes.
At the sound of a car pulling up outside, Mrs Sanderson wiped her palms down her apron and Mr Sanderson got to his feet.
‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ he said, looking down at Joanna. ‘But your parents are likely worried out of their mind wondering where you are. You’re going home. And so’s that dog of yours, but if your parents don’t want him, I’m willing to take him on. Just you remember that.’
Joanna looked up at him in dismay.
‘You’ll never have Harry! Never ever!’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Most kids would have been excited beyond belief to have ridden in a tractor and then in a motor car and all in the same day. Joanna was far from it.
The policeman at the station was very kind.
‘Here you are. Cup of hot cocoa to warm you up. You were lucky Mr Sanderson found you. It was a cold night last night and likely to be even colder tonight.’
Even though she’d eaten a hearty breakfast, Joanna took the mug gratefully, her thank you barely audible. Her eyes remained downcast.
PC Crow was surprised that his jovial manner had not raised a smile on her pretty face. He was famous as being able to bring a smile to the solemnest.
Undaunted, and slightly miffed she hadn’t responded as expected, he tried again. ‘I expect your mum will be worried out of her mind you going off like that.’
The little girl’s eyes flickered. Was it his imagination or had her face turned whiter than white?
Not all kids had good homes but not all admitted it. He prided himself on winning kids over, gaining their trust and getting at the truth of their home lives. To this end he bent low so his face was level with hers.
‘Look, Joanna. If there’s anything you want to tell me, it won’t go any further. If there’s anything worrying you . . .’
Her eyes blinked sharply wide. There was one thing above all others she was worrying about. ‘Where’s Harry?’
The policeman smiled, pleased that his efforts were half satisfied. He’d found the key to her heart. ‘Your dog?’
She nodded.
‘He’s out in the kennels where we keep stray dogs. Sometimes we keep our own dogs there as well. Police dogs that work with us. Real clever they are. Ever met one?’
She shook her head.
‘How about you get that cocoa inside you and I take you to meet one?’
She shook her head even more vehemently than before. ‘No. I just want Harry. Harry is a clever dog. Better than any old police dog!’
The policeman, a family man with four children of his own, scratched his head. ‘Was Harry the reason you ran away?’
Joanna thought about it. ‘I was supposed to be evacuated. My stepmother said I had to now my dad’s dead. I didn’t want to be parted from Harry. He’s my best friend – him and Paul and Susan.’
PC Crow felt an instant pang of pity. He presumed Joanna’s father had fell at Dunkirk, though he wouldn’t mention it. The kid was upset enough already. Fancy counting a dog as her best friend!
Joanna had almost finished her cocoa when one of the double doors to the police station crashed open. ‘So there you are, you little minx!’
Startled, Joanna dropped the tin mug, which rolled over the floor ending up spraying her stepmother’s shoes with what was left at the bottom.
Joanna cowered against the wall, half suspecting her stepmother would slap her face right there and then.
‘I’ll give you running off, my girl. Just wait until I get you home. Just you wait!’
Elspeth shook Joanna until it felt as though her teeth had loosened and would fall out of her head.
‘Mrs Ryan, is it?’
The policeman who had been so kind to Joanna stepped forward, his broad shoulders and imposing presence physically representing the power of the law.
Elspeth stopped shaking Joanna and looked at him. Unwilling to upset anyone who represented authority, she pasted on one of her false smiles and patted her hair. ‘Yes. It is.’
The policeman’s eyes hardened. ‘Perhaps we could have a little talk – in private.’
Elspeth decided it would be imprudent to disagree. ‘Of course.’ She threw Joanna an icy glare and pointed a warning finger. ‘Don’t you dare move from that spot until I get back.’
Elspeth Ryan regretted that she hadn’t done herself up a bit more before coming to the police station, but she kept smiling. The policeman who sat across from her was a fine figure of a man. She judged him as one who appreciated good-looking women and wasn’t immune to having a bit of fun on the side. Most men were like that.
‘I’m sorry for putting you to so much trouble,’ she said once she was seated on the other side of the table from him. ‘My stepdaughter is getting to be a right little handful since her dad died and that’s a fact!’
‘Is there any other reason for her leaving home besides her father dying?’ asked the policeman.
Elspeth was not been prepared for the policeman’s question. ‘Of course not.’ She paused. ‘She’s always been a right little madam. I did tell her father that, but he wouldn’t listen. Spoilt her, he did, and that’s a fact!’
Tossing her head dismissively, she took a Woodbine cigarette from the packet in her handbag. She waited for the policeman to offer her a light but when he didn’t bother she changed her mind. Now was not the time to smoke, not with him looking at her so accusingly.
‘What about the dog?’ he asked.
Elspeth pulled in her chin and frowned. ‘What dog?’
‘She had a dog with her. A cocker spaniel by the look of it. He goes by the name of Harry. She says it’s hers.’
‘Well!’ exclaimed Elspeth. Despite being in the company of a very good-looking man wearing a uniform, the mask she usually adopted for such as he slipped from her face. ‘I’ve no idea where she got that dog, but one thing I do know is the dirty smelly thing is not coming to live in my house!’
‘So you want us to dispose of him?’ The policeman sounded surprised.
‘I really don’t care what you do with him. I agree with the government that all pets should be put down in a time of war. In fact, I’d put all dogs and cats down if I had my way even when we’re not at war. They’re nothing but a nuisance.’
The policeman eyed her disparagingly. ‘Might I remind you, Mrs Ryan, that we use dogs to apprehend criminals. They’ve proved very useful in their time. Dogs have walked with man since the beginning of time,’ he stated in a lazy monotone, his eyes gazing into the distance. ‘Hunting dogs to start with. Then guard dogs, blood hounds, etc. Chinese mandarins used to shove the Pekinese dog up their sleeves to keep warm. Then there were lapdogs, King Charles spaniels, and all manner of other dogs bred for a purpose. Not that having a pedigree makes a difference. All dogs have a degree of intelligence.’
He could see from her expression that the woman sitting opposite him was unmoved.
‘I don’t care what they do. All that I’m saying is that you can dispose of this one in any way you choose.’
PC Crow studied the hairs growing on his knuckles as he considered what to do next. If he couldn’t persuade this woman to give the dog a home, then it was more than likely the animal would have to be put down. It crossed his mind to take him home himself, but he’d had to rehome the cat they used to have because one of the children was allergic to it. Who’s to say Timothy, his youngest son, wouldn’t also be allergic to a dog?
One look at Mrs Ryan and he’d weighed her up. She might try and appear a respectable married woman, but he guessed she hadn’t always been that way. In fact, he had a sneaking suspicion he might have arrested her for solic
iting some years ago. But that was then and this was now and they weren’t here with regard to a criminal offence. This was all about a little girl and a dog.
‘Is there anyone else who can take the dog in?’
‘Nobody that I know of. Everyone’s having a hard enough time feeding their families let alone looking after a dog.’
PC Crow nodded, his expression ably hiding what he was feeling inside. In this business you had to stick to the facts and appear even-handed and helpful. This was what he was aiming to do now. ‘It seems you’ve made up your mind about the dog.’
‘I certainly have,’ Elspeth declared and tossed her head.
‘And the child? What do you intend doing with Joanna?’
His look was steady but although Elspeth was unnerved by his manner, the possibility of remarrying – and a gentleman at that – outweighed all other considerations.
‘She’ll be evacuated to the country as planned. I’ve made enquiries and there’s a train going at the end of the month. I’ll get her on that.’
PC Crow didn’t press her to relent because he knew her sort never did. The father and breadwinner dead, Elspeth Ryan was looking after herself. The child was just an encumbrance, one she wished to get out of her sight and mind as quickly as possible.
Shame about the dog.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
All the way home from the police station Elspeth Ryan held Joanna’s hand so tightly it felt as though the bones were cracking.
No matter how much Joanna cried and protested that she was hurting, Elspeth’s grip was unrelenting.
‘Harry! I want Harry!’ Joanna sobbed through her tears.
‘Harry can go to hell!’
By the time they got home, Joanna’s arm felt as though it had been pulled from its socket and her fingers like they’d got caught in the mangle.
Proud of her scarlet nails, Elspeth had often given Joanna the job of feeding the laundry through the mangle, and sometimes her fingers had been caught between the wooden rollers that pressed the water from sheets. The experience had made her wary, though the mangle had never inflicted such pain as her stepmother was inflicting now.