by Molly Green
His mind dwelled on his last sortie. He’d nearly had it with a Messerschmitt. The Hun were flying much lower these days to target the docks, seeming prepared to risk getting a wing sliced off in the cables of the barrage balloons. He swallowed hard, reliving the nightmare. He’d been in his beloved Spit and had only looked up and seen him in the last fraction of a second, already bearing down on him and firing. With the aid of another Spit they’d managed to chase him, but it had been a bloody close call.
His fellow pilots had asked him to join them for a drink in the bar, to celebrate not losing a single aeroplane this time, but he hadn’t felt like it, though he should at least have bought a beer for the chap in the other Spitfire. Murray closed his eyes for a few seconds. Pilots always said they were simply doing their job and became embarrassed if you thanked them. But what about the next mission? And the one after? He shook himself. Mustn’t get into that train of thought.
Johnnie, in the chair beside him, crackled his newspaper shut, closed his eyes and breathed a long sigh of exhaustion. Murray knew exactly how he felt. They were all exhausted. But you had to keep going no matter how little sleep you’d had.
He stole a glance at Johnnie. Such a decent bloke. They’d become good pals. His wife had just delivered their first child – a girl – and Johnnie was desperate to be given some leave to see them. What a world to bring a baby into.
His thoughts turned to June as they did constantly these days. He felt sorry for her having to work for that dreadful Pherson woman – she was completely the wrong person in every sense to run an orphanage. Opinionated and obviously had no compassion for the children. And what a bully, the rude way she spoke to June. How did Junie put up with it? But he knew why. She genuinely loved the children – he could tell that a mile off.
His thoughts turned to Helen, so different from June. She’d shocked him with her declaration in the summer that she never wanted children. It would ruin her figure, she’d told him, and they would be a tie, with her trying to juggle a career on the stage that she’d worked so hard for. He hadn’t blamed her one bit, but it didn’t fit in with his dream of a family. They’d parted with only a few tears from Helen, and even those, he’d suspected, were an act. He was sure she’d been as relieved as he.
But June was different.
He wondered what she’d think when she opened the little package he’d tucked into her pocket when Matron wasn’t looking. He smiled. He’d bought the sweetheart brooch on a whim, knowing it was too early to tell her … His heart warmed with the image of her, a baby in her arms … stop … he mustn’t … but with that image in his mind, he fell asleep.
Murray jerked awake at the sound of the telephone ringing. Didn’t matter how many times he heard it, he always jumped. As he was the nearest he grabbed the receiver to hear the voice of an orderly shouting in his ear.
‘Scramble – base – angels – twelve!’
As one, his fellow pilots, familiar as brothers, surged towards the door, strapping on their parachutes and Mae Wests, cursing and shouting, only seconds behind Murray, who was racing towards his Spitfire, the engine already firing.
Freddie had kept June awake on his first night with his squeaking, and every so often rustling the newspaper in his box, and tonight was no exception. Somehow he’d managed to claw his way on to her bed and begun to lick her forehead with his tiny pink tongue.
‘Oh, don’t, Freddie, that tickles,’ she’d said, but he’d taken no notice and licked her cheek. She couldn’t help smiling. Christmas time was for the animals too, after all. She pulled the blanket closer around her. After a few minutes Freddie settled further down the bed, and it was warm and comforting to feel his small silky body tucked into the crook of her elbow, remembering how Murray had hidden him underneath his huge coat. How thoughtful he’d been to bring little Freddie to help Lizzie. And how wonderful that he loved animals. A fuzzy feeling nestled around her heart as she gently stroked the puppy and whispered to him that he was a good boy. Finally, she put her frozen arm underneath the blanket as he dropped off to sleep.
As soon as June awoke from a final disrupted sleep Freddie climbed down from the bed and began to whine. He was obviously asking for his breakfast. She’d have to creep downstairs before anyone was up and get him some scraps from the kitchen. She glanced at the clock. Quarter-past five. She’d beat Bertie if she was quick.
‘Keep quiet, Freddie,’ she whispered. He wagged his tail, the length and breadth of a large garden worm. ‘I’ll be back in a jiffy with something for you to eat.’
She wrapped his droppings in newspaper and ran downstairs to the kitchen where she stopped short. Ellen, one of the kitchen maids, was already at work scrubbing boards for the vegetables to be chopped for today’s dinner. The girl threw her a suspicious look.
June glanced round. ‘Where’s Bertie?’
‘She don’t come down till six at the earliest – just when we’ve prepared for her and she’s ready for a nice cup of tea.’ Ellen regarded June with interest. ‘You seem at a loss, Miss …’ She broke off, still watching her. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
June hesitated. Could she trust the maid? If she took her into her confidence and Ellen went running to Matron … Ellen’s blank stare met hers. Iris had told her nothing about Ellen but there was something about her … She daren’t risk it. Lizzie hadn’t even set eyes on Freddie. She had to give it a chance.
‘No, no, thank you, Ellen. I was thirsty, that’s all. I thought I’d make myself a cup of tea and wouldn’t disturb anyone.’
‘Be my guest,’ Ellen said, propping the clean boards by the sink. ‘You know where everything is. I’ll take my cuppa into the playroom where I can have a few minutes’ peace.’ She threw a glance at June. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then.’
June couldn’t have asked for anything better. As soon as Ellen’s back was turned she rushed to the pantry. There was a bowl with a plate over the top. She lifted the plate, careful not to make a noise, and there were the insides of several chickens. Livers and kidneys and hearts. Just the thing. Except everything was raw. Well, Freddie would have to get used to everything she gave him. She certainly couldn’t stop and boil up his breakfast. Stomach heaving, she put a tablespoon of offal onto a plate, grabbed a knife from the kitchen table drawer and a small chopping board and practically ran out of the door, hoping against hope that Ellen wouldn’t suddenly decide to come back to the kitchen.
But there was no sound at all except for June’s harsh breaths as she raced up the stairs with the plate of raw meat. She was greeted by a very excited puppy.
‘All right, Freddie. Keep quiet,’ she whispered. Freddie let out some excited squeaks. June chopped the pieces finely, feeling ill at the raw meat smell every time she made a new cut, only glad she hadn’t scooped up a heart. She took a saucer from under the plant on the windowsill, making a mental note to bring up another one from the kitchen. For the time being this would have to do. She set the saucer on the floor. ‘Breakfast, Freddie.’
He eyed it with scepticism for about two seconds and dived in. Two minutes later there wasn’t a scrap left. She filled the saucer with some water from her jug on the washstand and he lapped up every drop, then raised up on his hind legs and promptly fell backwards. Surprised, he shook himself. June picked him up and nestled him against her. How was she going to stop him from whining when she was gone? What could she give him to play with? Her room contained nothing that would interest a puppy. She’d just have to rush up and see him for a few minutes every couple of hours. And one of those times she’d take Lizzie.
It was Christmas Eve. At morning Assembly, which usually took place in the chapel, Matron made an announcement from the lectern.
‘We have a new boy coming to the home today. His name is’ – she glanced down at a sheet of paper in her hand – ‘J-o-a-c-h-i-m Woolfes.’ She raised her eyes and gave a small grimace. ‘I’m not sure how to pronounce it. Anyway, we’re taking him in until we can find suitable foster paren
ts. He’s a German Jew.’
She gave a slight emphasis to the last word and June caught Iris’s eye. Iris raised her eyes to the ceiling, then shook her head in warning.
There was an intake of breath in the chapel. The teachers all looked at one another, Miss Ayles shaking her head, and Barbara Steen raising her eyebrows. The children were muttering his name, getting it completely wrong, and poking one another.
‘German! The Germans are trying to kill us! They want us all dead.’ Thomas’s voice was loud with accusation. ‘He’s an enemy.’
Immediately Betsy began to cry.
‘Stop shouting immediately, Mason!’ Matron glared over the top of her spectacles at Thomas who looked sulky.
Matron had told Thomas to stop shouting, but not reprimanded him for calling Joachim an enemy, June thought in surprise. She would have a word with the boy herself at the first opportunity.
‘How old is he?’ another boy called out.
‘About the same as you, Barrow. Well, it’s Christmas Day tomorrow and we will all do our best to make him welcome.’ Matron stated the last part with one of her quick smiles that never reached her eyes.
If it hadn’t been so awful, it would have been comic, June thought.
‘Where’s his ma and pa?’ Bobby asked.
‘No more questions,’ Matron snapped. ‘He’ll be here after dinner.’
But less than an hour later a motor car pulled up outside the entrance. One of the maids unbolted the door and a young man limped into the hall. Another war victim, June thought sadly. Then a boy of about nine or ten trailed after him, carrying a cardboard case and, slung over one shoulder, a box containing his gas mask.
‘I’ve brought Joachim Woolfes,’ the young man said, as he limped further into the room, edging the boy forward. ‘I’m Mr Clarke’s assistant at Dr Barnardo’s – Dennis Fuller.’ He smiled at the silent group. ‘Is Matron here?’
June noticed Joachim’s eyes were red and puffy as though he’d been crying since he first woke up this morning. He probably had, she thought bitterly, her heart going out to the boy, whose eyes darted to and fro, trying to take everything in. She glanced around. Both teachers and children had congregated as soon as they’d heard the motorcar crunching to a halt on the gravel drive, and June was just about to fetch Matron when she clattered across the hall.
‘Ah, there you are. We didn’t expect you this early.’ Matron glowered at Mr Fuller whose smile instantly faded. ‘Have you brought the boy’s papers?’
Dennis Fuller handed her a file. ‘I think you’ll find everything there,’ he said. ‘We don’t have an awful lot of information, owing to the circumstances.’ He lowered his voice on the last few words.
Matron sniffed. ‘Thank you.’ She paused, then said in a different tone, ‘Will you be wanting anything to eat … or a cup of tea?’
‘No, no. I’d better get moving. If I hurry I can catch the next train back to London.’ He turned to Joachim. ‘Be a good chap and remember what I told you.’
‘And what would that be?’ Matron demanded.
‘We were just having a chat on the way here,’ Dennis Fuller said, his smile returning. ‘I’ll be off then.’ He nodded and disappeared.
‘A German,’ Miss Ayles hissed under her breath. ‘In our lovely home.’
June would have to take the situation into her own hands. She frowned at Miss Ayles and went up to the child.
‘Hello, Joachim. Is that how you pronounce your name?’
The boy shook his head vehemently.
‘Can you tell me the right way?’ She tried to smile her encouragement.
Joachim remained silent although he kept sliding his boot back and forth on the polished floor.
‘Matron said you were coming to stay with us for a while. You’ve had a long journey, haven’t you?’
There was no response at all. Just a flicker of suspicion from the dark eyes.
‘You’ve got a funny name,’ Thomas said, going up to him and looking at him closely. ‘I hope we bombed your house down. Then you know how we feel.’
‘That’s enough, Thomas,’ June cut in, her voice sharp. She took hold of Joachim’s hand but he immediately snatched it away and looked straight ahead. ‘I’m sure you’re hungry, aren’t you, if you’ve been travelling a long way?’
Silence.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ Jack taunted. ‘Don’t say we’ve got another kid here who don’t speak.’
June looked over her shoulder swiftly although she knew Lizzie was in the kitchen with Bertie and wouldn’t have heard Jack’s remark.
‘That’s unkind, Jack, and it’s not “don’t speak”, it’s “doesn’t speak”.’ June turned to Joachim again. ‘Would you like to come with me? I’ll ask Cook if you can have a glass of milk and a piece of her cake.’
There was still no response. Suddenly June had a thought. ‘Joachim, do you speak English?’
The boy nodded.
‘Right.’ Matron’s expression was grim. ‘If that’s the case, all of you in class now. The new boy will be known as “Woolfes”. I’m sure that won’t present any problem.’ She gazed at Joachim. ‘We must decide what to do with you.’
As though he were a parcel. June pressed her lips together in anger as Matron stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. A moment later he disengaged himself.
There was more chattering and Matron raised her hand and clipped one of the boys nearest to her over the ear.
‘He needs a drink and something to eat first.’ June swung round to Matron, daring her to argue, but her heart beating fast since she was taking command without being asked. ‘Come with me, Joachim,’ she said, ignoring Matron’s icy glare because she was taking no notice of her instruction to call the boy by his surname. ‘I’ll take you to the kitchen to meet Cook,’ she told him. ‘She’s bound to have done some baking this morning.’
She tried to take the boy’s hand again, but once more Joachim snatched it away. With an about-face, his cheeks red with fury, he pointed to himself and shouted to Matron, ‘Not “Woo”. It’s “Voo”. Voolfes. Voolfes!’
June bit back a smile. Joachim certainly wasn’t frightened of authority, though he’d need careful handling. She was gratified to see Matron’s face colour.
Several boys giggled.
‘Woolfes, Woolfes,’ they chanted, and with the mispronunciation of his name ringing in June’s ears, she grabbed Joachim’s hand firmly this time and marched him towards the kitchen.
Even under Matron’s scrutiny the children seemed more carefree than June had seen them before. As it was Christmas Eve there were no classes and they made up games. The girls finished decorating the tree, although the boys insisted on showing them where to place each bauble. June was glad to see the twins sticking up for themselves and taking no notice.
‘Where’s Lizzie?’ Suddenly June felt panicky. She realised she hadn’t seen the child for the last half-hour.
‘Miss Graham’s taken her to the toilet. She’s wet herself again,’ Megan called out.
Poor little thing. She could almost understand why Matron insisted upon keeping Lizzie separate from the others. It would be so embarrassing for the little girl if she wet her knickers in front of them. They’d never stop jeering.
At that moment Lizzie appeared with the English teacher.
‘Can you keep an eye on her for a little while?’ Athena asked June as she caught sight of her. ‘I’ve caught my stocking on a rough piece of door frame and I want to darn it before it gets worse.’
‘Of course,’ June said, smiling. ‘Come on, Lizzie. I want to show you something.’ She took the child’s hand and the two of them trotted up the four flights of stairs. She could hear Freddie scuffling around in her room and Lizzie looked up at her questioningly. But she kept her little rosebud mouth closed and June cautiously opened the door. Immediately, a small brown bundle shot by her feet. Lizzie let go of June’s hand.
‘Freddie. Come back!’ June hissed.
For
two seconds Freddie stopped and looked round, then shot off.
‘Doggie.’
‘Yes, a little doggie,’ June said automatically. ‘We must go and rescue him.’ She glanced down at Lizzie’s face, full of wonder and delight. It wasn’t until that moment she realised Lizzie had spoken again.
June managed to scoop Freddie up before he’d got to the first landing. She ran back up the stairs, Freddie in her arms with his tongue hanging out as though he was laughing at the trick he’d played. Lizzie stood at the bedroom door, her eyes brilliant with excitement.
‘Naughty Freddie,’ June admonished as she set him down.
Freddie immediately went to Lizzie and sniffed her ankles. Lizzie sat down on her bottom and patted him. He looked up at her and gave a little whine.
‘He’s saying he’s pleased to meet you,’ June said, smiling at the child. ‘Can you tell him your name? You know he’s Freddie and he wants you to tell him yours.’
‘My. Name. Is. Lizzie,’ piped the little girl leaving a space between each word. June wanted to pinch herself with delight. To shout to everyone that Lizzie was talking again. But she couldn’t say a word because that would mean Matron would find out about Freddie and he’d have to go.
‘Lizzie, can you keep a secret?’
Lizzie stared.
‘We mustn’t tell anyone about Freddie just yet because we might not be able to keep him here. We have to hide him for the time being. Until he gets a bit bigger. Can you do that for me?’
Lizzie nodded, her little face serious. She bent over to stroke Freddie who was looking up at her with adoration, his tail wagging like mad.
‘Can I see him tomorrow when it’s Christmas?’