An Orphan in the Snow

by Molly Green

  Tears flooded Lizzie’s eyes as she nodded.

  Poor little soul. She’d probably built one with her brother when they’d last had snow. June scooped up a ball of snow and then another, and pressed it down firmly. Soon Lizzie began to bring her own small balls of snow to place on the body. June glanced over her shoulder at the little girl. Already she had a pink tinge to her cheeks and her eyes had lost their dull expression.

  They made a head and stuck it on the top. ‘I know he doesn’t look anything much at the moment, Lizzie,’ June said, ‘but I’ll ask Cook for a carrot for his nose and get two pieces of coal from the bunker for his eyes. I’ll have to think about his mouth. Then we need an old hat and scarf, and maybe some more bits of coal for his buttons down his coat.’ She noticed with satisfaction that Lizzie was hanging on to her every word. ‘Do you think you can help me collect all the things we need?’

  Lizzie nodded.

  ‘Maybe when the snowman has a face and is dressed you might be able to say hello to him. What do you think?’

  Lizzie’s little face immediately dropped.

  ‘Don’t worry, Lizzie. It doesn’t matter. But I know he’d be awfully pleased if you could say something to him.’

  Lizzie looked up at her and opened her mouth. In that instant June was certain Lizzie was about to speak. Then she pressed her lips even more tightly together. But somehow June felt there had been a lot of progress made in only – she looked at her watch. Oh, no. They’d been gone for nearly three-quarters of an hour. Hilda would definitely have reported her to Matron, who would be furious.

  ‘And where do you think you’ve been, Miss Lavender?’ Matron, her voice enunciating every word, barricaded the door as June tried to look as though it was normal for her and Lizzie to be out in the snow together.

  ‘I thought Lizzie should get some fresh air – she’s so pale. And she’s helped me build a snowman. I’m so encouraged that she’s joined in with something all children love making … and she really enjoyed doing it.’ June knew she was gabbling.

  Matron drew herself up and threw back her shoulders. Her head and bosom trembled with fury.

  ‘You will not take Lizzie out of the house ever again. She hasn’t even got a coat on. If she catches her death it will be your fault, my girl.’

  ‘Honestly, Matron, we’ve been working and moving around. She’s not a bit cold with her jacket and—’

  ‘Silence! In you go this minute. You, child, come with me. You’re off upstairs – Hilda’s waiting to take you back to the nursery.’

  Lizzie broke into sobs and looked up at June who could cheerfully have throttled Matron. There wasn’t a shred of kindness in the woman – she couldn’t even bring herself to say Lizzie’s name. Matron stretched out her hand for Lizzie, who sobbed even harder and hung on to June.

  ‘She was so happy outside,’ June told the angry woman. ‘At least let me take her upstairs myself.’

  ‘Certainly not. And if I have any more nonsense like this, I shall send you packing. One more time …’ Matron swiftly ducked and grabbed Lizzie’s arm, forcing her to let go of June. The little girl screamed and Kathleen rushed into the hall.

  ‘What’s going on?’ The nurse looked from Matron to June, and down at Lizzie, who was crying uncontrollably. ‘Lizzie seems very upset, Matron.’

  ‘You can blame Miss Lavender for that, Nurse.’

  June opened her mouth to say something in her defence but stopped as Kathleen shook her head in warning.

  ‘Let me help by taking her jacket and washing her hands ready for dinner,’ Kathleen said.

  ‘Where’s Hilda?’ Matron’s angry eyes swept round the empty hall.

  ‘She’s gone to lie down. The shock, I expect, from the bite. I’ve dabbed some TCP on it. She’ll be fine.’

  Matron hesitated and June was sure she was trying to work out what to do to save face, not necessarily what was best for the child. She was obviously reluctant to let Lizzie out of her clutches but Kathleen ignored her and calmly held out her hand.

  Lizzie snatched her hand away from Matron’s and took Kathleen’s, but not before she’d turned round to June and given her the smallest sweetest smile.

  Throughout the rest of the day June fumed. Not for the first time did she think Matron was unsuitable for such a responsible job. It was clear Lizzie needed careful handling before she would start speaking again. If only Matron would have let her explain how happy Lizzie had been helping to make the snowman, and how disappointed she’d be if she wasn’t allowed to go out tomorrow and finish him. June drew her lips tightly together. At least Kathleen had rescued poor Lizzie. And she had seen Lizzie smile for the first time in the week June had been at the home. That was surely a good omen.

  Kathleen and Iris were already in the common room when June went in that evening after supper. She’d had no time to tell them what had happened as Matron had kept her busy all day long cleaning the narrow windows in the children’s dormitories, mopping the floors, sweeping and dusting. Not that she minded doing these jobs but there were two competent cleaners who came every day from the village, and she was, after all, supposed to be Matron’s assistant. She had a feeling Matron was deliberately not letting her near the children as a kind of punishment.

  June shivered as the cold air greeted her even though there was a fire burning. Mr Gilbert never lit it until five o’clock so the room hadn’t had a chance to warm up properly by the time the staff had finished supper and wanted to relax a little after a day’s work. But the two young women’s smiles of welcome more than made up for the chilly atmosphere.

  ‘You were brave to take Lizzie out,’ Kathleen said, when June had settled into one of the sagging armchairs and was sipping her cup of tea.

  ‘It was my chance of getting some fresh air into her lungs. She’s so pale. They’re all treating her like an invalid and I believe she’d do so much better if she could be with the others – hear them laughing and talking. Children can accept something unusual like Lizzie not talking if they’re left to it, but until they let her mix with them, Lizzie will take far longer to recover, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Did you see the bite mark?’ Kathleen asked.

  ‘Yes. It wasn’t even a scratch but Hilda acted as though her hand was falling off. She’s not fit to be put in charge of a child like Lizzie – or any child, for that matter.’

  ‘What experience does she have with children – do we know?’ Iris said.

  ‘No telling, but from her actions I’d say none whatsoever,’ Kathleen said, drawing up a stool and putting her feet up. She let out a deep sigh. ‘Oh, that’s better. I’ve been on my tootsies for ten solid hours.’

  ‘We should ask Hilda. In an interested sort of way,’ Iris said, ‘not as though we’re threatening her at all.’

  ‘She’ll still be suspicious.’ June put her cup down on the small table beside her chair. ‘She’s on the lookout for a fight all the time.’

  ‘We need to make a plan,’ Iris said firmly. ‘She’s doing more harm than good, and June’s right – at this rate Lizzie’s going to take much longer before she improves.’

  ‘If she ever does,’ June cut in crossly. ‘Between Hilda and Matron the poor little kid doesn’t have a chance.’

  ‘We’ll think of something.’ Iris drew her brows together. She looked at her watch. ‘I’d better go down to the ward ready for the night shift.’

  At least these two girls feel the same as I do, June thought, as Iris vanished. And dear Bertie was sympathetic too, the way she had Lizzie in the kitchen, keeping an eye on her in the mornings. She wasn’t alone in trying to think of some way that Lizzie could be brought into the daily life, along with the others. The three of them – four, counting Bertie – would come up with something. Lizzie would begin to speak again, June was certain. That little secret smile they’d shared gave her hope.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘We should ask Kathleen if she’s coming to the dance with us tonight,’ Iris said when the ch
ildren were filing out of the dining room after breakfast. ‘She usually does, even though she’s got a boyfriend.’

  June raised her eyebrows in surprise. She didn’t like to comment that if she had a boyfriend she didn’t think she’d be interested in going to any dance.

  ‘You look rather disapproving.’ Iris got hold of a young lad who was trying to push in front of her. ‘Just watch it, young Baker.’ She turned to June. ‘Kathleen says she wants to have a bit of fun as you never know when your last day might come. She says she’s sure Dick is enjoying himself when he gets some time off.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to look disapproving,’ June said quickly. ‘I’m sure she doesn’t mean any harm but with such a shortage of girls she might have her head turned … especially if all your stories about the Americans and the money they spend on their girlfriends are true.’

  Iris laughed. ‘Dick would soon put a stop to anything like that, though he’s not near enough to keep a close eye. He’s somewhere the other end of England and she hasn’t seen him for six months or more. Anyway, I’ll ask her, if it’s all right with you.’

  ‘Of course it is. I like her company.’

  ‘And you’re definitely coming? You’re not going to back out at the last minute?’

  ‘No, I’ll come. Just don’t expect me to appear in anything special. I’ve only got a black skirt and a green blouse – not at all suitable for a dance. But it will have to do.’

  ‘We may have to make you a dress from the curtains in the common room.’ Iris giggled. ‘Like Scarlett O’Hara in Gone With The Wind.’

  June grinned. ‘That was wonderful, wasn’t it? She certainly had Rhett Butler fooled – for a while anyway.’

  Even though June worried that her outfit wouldn’t be good enough and she’d be embarrassed, she couldn’t help feeling a little buzz of excitement. She hadn’t been out for the evening since her arrival and it was less than a fortnight until Christmas. In fact, this was the RAF’s Christmas ‘do’. It would be nice to be out of the home, magnificent as it was, for a change. She wouldn’t allow herself to think beyond that.

  Kathleen didn’t go with them after all. She’d finally had a letter from her boyfriend and told June and Iris she was going to stay in her room and reread his words to her heart’s content.

  ‘I’ve got to stay faithful for once in my life,’ she said, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

  ‘Next time, maybe,’ Iris said. ‘Right, Junie, are you nearly ready?’

  June had spent a miserable hour trying to make herself look more feminine than she’d felt lately. She’d powdered her nose, and dabbed on some lipstick. Even though she’d eked it out, the stick was going down at an alarming rate. But tonight she wanted to look her best, especially when she didn’t have a nice dress to wear.

  It was her hair that was giving her the most trouble. It was so thick it refused to stay in place no matter how many times she practised the Victory Roll. Athena Graham always had a perfect one. So why couldn’t she do one? In the end she pulled up a hank of hair at each side and stuck two tortoiseshell combs in. Her only real touch of glamour, she decided, would be the pearl necklace her mother had given her before she died. It had been her grandmother’s before that, and now it was June’s. She bent her neck and set the string of pearls just above her collarbone, fastening it at the back. It was beautiful. Nodding with not exactly satisfaction, but at least approval that she looked clean and tidy, she smiled at the image and the image smiled back at her. There was no more she could do. If they didn’t think she looked right it was just too bad.

  ‘It’s still snowing,’ Iris said, looking her up and down as was her way. ‘You need your boots. You can take your shoes in a bag and change them once you get there. That’s what I’m going to do.’

  June sent her friend a grateful smile. She’d worried that she would look odd changing her shoes at the RAF station. She grabbed her coat and hat and they shot out of the door. The walk to the bus stop seemed shorter now she was used to it and soon they were in a warm bus on their way to Speke RAF station

  As the bus jolted along and Iris chattered away, June began to look forward to the evening. She had a strong feeling Murray Andrews would be there and her cheeks warmed like the pearls nestling in the curve of her neck.

  The dance was obviously a popular event with the officers, June thought, judging by the amount of noise coming from that direction as she and Iris sat on chairs by the open door, eased off their boots and put them neatly beneath their coats, now hanging on a rail. Her heart started to beat a little faster and she felt her new-found confidence ebbing away as she looked down at her attire, which could never pass for evening wear: her best flower-printed green blouse with short puff sleeves and a plain black skirt that had to go with everything. Well – nothing she could do about it now.

  Drawing in a deep breath she put her arm through Iris’s and the two of them stepped into the hall. Officers, all in uniform, dominated the dance hall, which was decorated with paper chains and balloons ready for Christmas. Clouds of smoke wafted towards the ceiling and the room was filled with chatter and Glenn Miller’s music from a small group of musicians at the far end. Uniformed officers were throwing their heads back as they laughed with their friends, for all the world as though they didn’t have a care. As Iris had promised, there were many more of them than there were women. Several of the latter were dressed to the nines, as her mother would have said.

  ‘You mustn’t ever be caught wearing bright-red lipstick, dear,’ she’d told June once. ‘Men don’t like it and you don’t want to be accused of being fast.’

  June’s stomach turned. Cold perspiration gathered on her forehead. She wasn’t dressed properly for a dance at all. She turned away, ready to bolt out of the door and run for the next bus, when she felt Iris’s hand give hers a reassuring squeeze.

  ‘Not everyone’s dressed to kill,’ Iris whispered. ‘Look, there are some girls over there in uniform.’ She gave a casual wave then glanced at June. ‘With your face and figure you’ll be a match for any of ’em.’

  As though to confirm Iris’s remark an exceptionally tall man with a GI crewcut strode up. You could only describe him as handsome, June thought, and he knew it.

  ‘Hi, girls. Have y’all just arrived?’ He looked and sounded like one of those American film stars Aunt Ada was so fond of. ‘Name’s Charles Lockstone. Well, I’m usually called Chas – or worse, Chuck – straight from Savannah, Georgia.’ He grinned at both women but his eyes lingered on June. They were a light blue, flashing with merriment. ‘So tell me your names, beautiful ladies.’

  June gave a small smile just for good manners. She wasn’t used to such a blatant introduction.

  ‘I’m Iris, and this is my good friend June,’ Iris said before June could answer for herself.

  ‘And where have y’all sprung from?’

  ‘We haven’t exactly sprung from anywhere,’ Iris answered. ‘We’ve come from Bingham Hall – the grand house just outside Bingham village.’

  ‘Have y’all been kept prisoners there?’ Chas broke into a grin again. ‘And did you tie a knotted sheet and climb out of your prison window and escape to give us poor guys a bit of feminine company?’ He had an attractive drawl.

  ‘Hardly,’ Iris said. ‘It’s a Dr Barnardo’s home.’

  Chas looked puzzled.

  ‘Have you never heard of them?’ Iris asked, and Chas shook his head.

  ‘It’s a home for orphans,’ Iris explained. ‘And we work jolly hard there. I’m a nurse and June is Matron’s assistant, even though she’s trained to be a nursery nurse.’

  June envied the easy way Iris had of talking to a strange man, and an American at that. He sounded just like Rhett Butler.

  ‘Say, can I buy you girls a drink?’

  ‘Thank you – that would be lovely,’ Iris said quickly, throwing Chas a wide smile. ‘I’ll have a gin and tonic, please.’

  June rather wished Iris hadn’t accepted a drink from the fir
st person who’d set eyes on her. Deep down she hoped to see Murray Andrews. Thank him properly for getting her book at a reduction. Her eyes scanned the room but it was already so crowded it would be difficult to pick out anyone, especially someone she’d only briefly met.

  She felt the American’s eyes on her, waiting to be told what she would like.

  ‘Nothing for me for the moment, thank you,’ she said.

  ‘You sure about that, ma’am?’ His smile was wide and didn’t leave her face.

  ‘Quite sure, thank you.’

  ‘I’ll get ours then, Iris,’ he said, and disappeared.

  ‘You were awfully quiet, Junie, but it’s quite obvious you’ve made a hit with him.’

  ‘I don’t want to make a hit with anyone,’ June said sincerely. ‘It’s nice just to be here and maybe have a dance or two. But that’s all. I want to concentrate on the children, not some man who thinks I’m only after a good time.’ She managed to stop her eyes sweeping the room.

  ‘You have to forgive them – the Americans, I mean. They’re all like that. Much more open and friendly than the English – so I’ve been told, anyway.’ Iris laughed. ‘I wouldn’t say no to a lovely American officer.’

  ‘You can have him with my complete approval,’ June said, smiling.

  ‘I would if I could. But you can see he’s only got eyes for you.’

  ‘You’re wrong, but even if it’s true, I’m not interested. All I want is to try out my dance steps which Aunt Ada taught me.’

  The music changed at that moment to a quicker rhythm which June had never heard before. Chas came towards them, a glass in each hand. As he wove his way through the crowd, June realised he was head and shoulders taller than almost anyone else.

  ‘I’ve found the only table,’ he said, gesturing with a jerk of his shoulder. ‘Had to give the barman a quid, I think you call it, to reserve it for us. Now which one of you lovely ladies wants me to teach her the jitterbug?’