An Orphan in the Snow

by Molly Green

  ‘I must be getting old,’ she told June, to her amusement. ‘Twenty-five and still on the shelf.’ She glanced at June. ‘You know we were invited to a New Year’s party by the RAF but the weather is so bad I can’t be bothered to make the effort.’

  ‘Not even for Paul?’ June asked.

  ‘Paul who?’ Iris said with a laugh. ‘Don’t know who you’re talking about.’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘Oh, that Paul. That cocky little squirt.’ She laughed again. ‘No, not interested.’

  ‘And Chas?’

  ‘I told you … he only has eyes for you.’

  ‘But I don’t think of him in that way at all,’ June said.

  ‘Yeah, it’s Murray you’ve got your eye on, isn’t it?’

  ‘He’s a lovely dancer,’ June said, going a little pink. ‘And he’s a nice friend. But that’s all.’ She didn’t add how disappointed she was not to have heard any word from him since the letter he’d sent at Christmas.

  ‘I’ll believe that when I see it,’ Iris said, grinning.

  Privately, June would quite like to have gone. It would certainly have been a reprieve from Joachim’s playing up. But she wouldn’t dream of going on her own. It was just that Murray might be there.

  ‘I’m so sorry you haven’t heard any news from your parents, Joachim,’ June said when he mooched along the corridor on New Year’s Day, the despair on his face set hard. ‘I’m sure it won’t be long before you hear something.’

  He stared at her and for the first time she saw tears trickling down his face. Then he flung himself into her arms and sobbed.

  ‘Dear child.’ June held him close, stroking his head. ‘Let’s go somewhere quiet.’

  She led him to the chapel and sat him down in one of the pews at the back. The bright morning sunshine streamed through the stained-glass windows but now was not the time to admire them. Joachim needed her attention. Thankfully it was a Thursday and there was no one in sight.

  ‘Have you had bad news?’ she asked him. Matron opened all the children’s letters before handing them over, and if she disapproved of the contents she wouldn’t give it to them. Something else June was determined to alter unless the contents were particularly sensitive.

  ‘Ich will meine Mutti.’ His blue eyes were wet with tears.

  She guessed Mutti must mean ‘mother’.

  Joachim glanced up at her, chewing his lip. ‘I want Mutti und Vater und meine Schwester, Heidi. Where did they go?’

  ‘Oh, my love.’ She leaned forward and rested her head on the back of the bench in front. ‘Can you talk to me about them?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘What about Heidi? Is she older or younger than you?’

  ‘She is eight.’

  ‘What does she like to do?’ Now June had got him to start talking she didn’t want him to clam up again.

  ‘She is clever. She likes mathematics. And music. Sometimes we do music together.’

  ‘That’s wonderful, Joachim.’ June imagined the two children singing together and maybe the mother playing the piano, accompanying them. She needed to say the right thing to him now he’d calmed down a little.

  ‘You believe in God, don’t you?’

  Joachim nodded.

  ‘Then God will keep your mother and father and sister safe – I am sure of it.’

  All of a sudden the boy’s eyes filled with hope. June gave him a handkerchief and he blew his nose.

  ‘Are you ready to go back?’

  The boy nodded. ‘Ja … yes, I will go. She took his hand and this time he gripped it as they walked back to the main part of the house.

  ‘Which class are you supposed to be in?’ June asked him.

  ‘Geography.’

  ‘Then that will be in Room 3. So off you go. Learn all you can. Do what Miss Ayles tells you. And Joachim …?’

  ‘Yes, Miss?’

  ‘Your English is improving every day. Try to talk to the other children. Don’t wait for them to talk to you. And only speak in English. It’s important while you’re in England. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  He turned to June and looked up at her. ‘Yes, Miss.’

  ‘And do you promise to do as I ask?’

  He hesitated, then to her relief he said, ‘I will try.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  January 1942

  June had just returned from feeding Freddie, whose new home was in the stable block. The children were drinking their eleven o’clock milk, when she heard what sounded like thunder.

  In a flash of horror she realised it was a bombing raid in Liverpool. But this one sounded louder than usual. Her heart beat hard. They should vacate the house – just in case it came closer.

  At that moment Matron appeared at the dining room door.

  ‘To the shelters,’ Matron shouted. ‘NOW!’ She was flinging on her coat and, to June’s horror, diving for the front door.

  How can she be saving her own skin when the children were still in the building? June shook her head in disgust.

  Other members of staff picked up the younger children. Alan shot by, Lizzie in one hand and the twins, Jimmy and Norman, hand in hand, in the other.

  ‘I’ll take Lizzie,’ June said, rushing over, ‘so you can hold on to the twins.’

  Seeing their chance, Jimmy and Norman pulled away from Alan and raced along with their arms flapping up and down making aeroplane noises. June hushed them but they took no notice. Then to her amazement Joachim appeared, the only child with his satchel on his back, and grabbed hold of them, admonishing them sternly in German. It took them completely by surprise and they simmered down immediately. June, clutching a white-faced Lizzie, cast her eye over the last of the children.

  ‘I’m scared,’ Betsy wailed.

  ‘Hold on to me,’ June said, offering her other hand. ‘We’ve got to run to the shelter.’

  Everyone rushed to the door and dashed across the lawn at the rear to the two shelters, where they scrambled down the steps. Matron was already there, busying herself putting folding chairs up for the teachers and laying out blankets.

  All very well, June thought grimly, but not much good if there were no children to lie on them.

  More heads appeared and soon June’s shelter was full. She was relieved to see Harold helping some of the smaller children, and only hoped everyone else was safely in the second shelter. She took a deep breath to calm herself and wished she hadn’t. There was an overriding smell of stale sweat which seemed to be coming from Gilbert’s direction. She tried not to think about it as she and Kathleen and Harold managed to get the children occupied with singing songs and the older ones to tell stories, but there was little for them to sit on, only the few blankets and a couple of groundsheets and some cushions – not nearly enough to go round.

  ‘Have you ever had to come down here before?’ June asked Kathleen nervously.

  ‘We used to practise once a week, but nothing happened for months and we stopped doing it. We didn’t know it, of course, but that was the Phoney War. After that we only practised occasionally because the bombs fell directly on Liverpool and the docks. We always felt safe this far away from the city.’ Kathleen’s voice shook as she looked around the shelter. ‘But it sounded nearer this time.’

  Matron was still busy doing little. June caught her frowning at Gilbert, who’d taken one of the chairs and was watching the goings-on in the shelter with a sharp, malevolent eye.

  ‘You can hardly count on those two for all the help they’ve been,’ Kathleen added, lowering her voice. ‘We could do with a couple of the teachers in this shelter instead of Gilbert, who’s no use whatsoever.’

  ‘Do you think they’ll bomb us?’ Hilda whispered, her face paler than usual.

  ‘If they do try we’re safe in here,’ June said to the trembling girl, hoping it was true. ‘Why don’t you help Kathleen? It will take your mind off it.’

  She’d barely uttered the words when there was a series of explosions above their heads and t
he noise of shattering glass, so loud she instinctively put her hands to her ears, then took them away quickly before anyone noticed. A child screamed for her mother and she rushed over to see Beth sobbing her heart out and clutching onto her brother, Lenny.

  ‘You’re safe with us,’ June soothed as she picked up the little girl and sat down on one of the chairs, drawing her onto her lap. ‘Don’t cry.’

  ‘She’s still a baby,’ Lenny said, but his words were drowned in another explosion.

  June felt her flimsy chair shudder with the vibration. She heard Gilbert curse.

  ‘Mother of Mercy …’ Matron said, her hands folded together as if in prayer.

  Dust fell like a shower on them. The children started choking and coughing, and several began to cry. When the children had finally quietened down and Lenny had reclaimed his sister, Lizzie sidled up to June to be cuddled. Eventually the little girl’s breathing was rhythmic, her fingers firmly in her mouth. Kathleen who was sitting nearby handed around a bottle of water.

  ‘Just take a few sips,’ she told Alan, ‘and pass it to the child next to you.’ She turned towards June. ‘We haven’t got much in the way of provisions, and this could go on for who knows how long. There ought to be some food down here. And more water and drinks. But there’s hardly anything. A tin of broken biscuits and some bottles of orange juice. Not much of a survival kit.’

  ‘It’s better than nothing,’ Matron snapped, suddenly towering over the two young women and seeming to take control again. ‘I want everyone to get in a line so I can do a count. Children first.’ She took a piece of paper and handed it to June. ‘Write their names down when you’ve seen them with your own eyes,’ she added craftily.

  So I take all the responsibility, June thought, now thoroughly annoyed.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ called out one of the boys.

  ‘So’m I.’

  A burst of chatter followed, but it was soon broken by a sharp voice.

  ‘FIRE!’

  It was Hilda screaming out. Everyone leaped up, and Lizzie awoke, her eyes wide with fear. She clung on to June and began to sob, the exertion racking her little body. June could smell burning.

  Children were grabbing one another, ready to make a beeline for the steps, but Harold caught hold of two of them. ‘Get back inside! All of you. There’s no fire.’ He caught June’s eye and jerked his head towards Matron.

  June turned and was quick enough to see Matron stub out a cigarette on the wall, leaving a trail of smoke. June and Kathleen looked at one another and Kathleen lifted her eyes heavenwards.

  Everyone huddled together. June’s arms felt numb with the weight of holding Lizzie, and the younger children became more fractious by the minute, calling ‘Miss’ incessantly.

  ‘I hope it’s over,’ Kathleen said, ‘but I don’t understand why they would bomb an orphanage. Why would they want to kill innocent children?’

  ‘It’s probably a lone plane,’ Harold answered grimly. ‘We wouldn’t be a normal target out here in the country. I’m going to stick my head out and have a look.’ He was back in a few moments. ‘He must’ve been driven off by our boys and dropped the last of his bombs over us on his way back to Germany. I doubt if there’ll be any more action today but maybe we should stay where we are for another half an hour or so to be on the safe side.’

  But Matron, it seemed, wasn’t going to have anyone else make such a decision.

  ‘Back to the house all of you!’ she ordered. ‘And back to your classroom.’ She glared over at June. ‘Have you everyone’s names, Miss Lavender?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve got them all.’

  ‘Good. I’ll check that everyone else is present in the other shelter.’ Matron pulled herself up the steps to survey the scene. ‘Here they come.’

  There was plenty of shouting and talking from the second shelter, and June watched as each new head appeared. Even though Matron was counting them June kept her eye out for the rest of the children. The children were shouting and pushing one another. Now it was over they could show their bravery, though one of them was crying. Joachim.

  ‘Come on, snap to it,’ Miss Ayles admonished him. ‘We’ve got no time for dawdling – and definitely no time for tears.’

  ‘All of you back to the house and line up in the Great Hall,’ Matron barked. She gazed long and hard at June, her lips hardening. ‘And stop being soft with Woolfes, Miss Lavender. You’ll make him lily-livered.’ She turned and marched off.

  June shook her head as she stared after her. Matron really didn’t have any idea. Neither had Miss Ayles, come to that. She hurried over to her and Joachim, who was sniffing and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

  ‘What’s the matter with him?’ she asked the teacher under her breath.

  ‘He says one of the children has stolen his satchel but I doubt if he took it into the shelter. None of the other children picked theirs up. It’d be the last thing they’d think of.’ Miss Ayles sniffed her disapproval.

  ‘Well, I can vouch for him that he definitely took the satchel into the shelter,’ June said, ‘because I noticed it on his back when he was running over.’

  Joachim looked up at June with a beseeching expression.

  ‘I keep telling everyone that. They don’t believe me. And they don’t believe anyone’s stolen it.’

  ‘Why would anyone want to steal your books and homework? They’ve got enough to do themselves without doing yours.’ June was trying to make light of it but fresh tears poured down Joachim’s cheeks.

  ‘I hate this place! And everyone. They’ve taken my satchel. I want it back. It belongs to me.’ He thumped his foot on the grass.

  ‘I’m sure it’s a mistake,’ June said. ‘Or one of the other grown-ups must have seen it and didn’t know whose it was.’ She gave his arm a quick squeeze, thankful Matron wasn’t there to witness the gesture. ‘Come on, Joachim, wipe your eyes. It’ll be in the house.’

  What on earth was going on? The boy was acting as though it was his most precious possession. All it would have in it would be a couple of schoolbooks and his exercise book and pen and pencil. It didn’t make sense, the fuss he was making.

  ‘Where’ve you two been?’ Iris said, when they were inside. She looked at Joachim. ‘You’ve been crying.’

  ‘He’s lost his satchel,’ June said. ‘He had it on his back and must have taken it off in the shelter’ – she looked at Joachim, who nodded – ‘and then after it was over and everyone left, he couldn’t find it.’

  ‘I expect one of the teachers picked it up,’ Iris said. ‘Why don’t you join the other children in the dining room? Bertie’s made some cake and there’s tea and lemonade. By the time you’ve finished it will have turned up, I’m sure.’

  ‘Where’s Matron?’ June asked when Joachim had disappeared.

  ‘Checking the house to see if there’s any damage.’

  ‘I need to check on Freddie,’ June said, guilty that she’d forgotten him since they’d been in the shelter. ‘He’ll have been terrified with all that noise.’

  ‘Let’s go and see him first and then take a look at the greenhouses. I bet they’ve taken a blow with all that shattering glass sound we heard.’

  Inside the stable block it was black as a cave and smelled of ammonia and dusty straw, but even though there were no longer any horses, it was easy to imagine the warm smell of their flesh, and hear their breathy snorts of welcome.

  ‘Freddie,’ June called. ‘Freddie!’

  A small silky head pushed up from a pile of straw on the back wall. Even in the gloom the puppy’s brown eyes gleamed. The next instant he’d emerged, tail wagging, and trembling with excitement as he thrust his head into her hand and licked it.

  ‘Freddie. Oh, Freddie.’ June picked him up and hugged him. ‘You must have wondered what on earth was happening. You can come with us and get some exercise. It’s all over now.’ She set him down and took his lead from a hook. ‘Keep still, Freddie. Let me get your lead on. And don’t bark.
They still mustn’t see you.’

  The two young women hurried round the side of the house and through the kitchen garden gate to where the enormous Victorian greenhouses stood. Or at least they had that morning. June and Iris stared in dismay. One of the greenhouses was barely standing.

  The door had been blown off and most of the window panes smashed. There was glass everywhere. Inside, slate worktops and pots of flowers and trays of vegetables now looked like heaps of rubbish.

  ‘They’ll be expensive to rebuild,’ Iris said. ‘Damned Jerry.’ She grimaced. ‘We’d better have a look at the cottages.’

  They half ran along the drive to where the three terraced cottages stood, one of them being Matron’s and the other two for Miss Ayles and Bertie. They were untouched. The two women, Freddie happily scampering along with them, rushed over to a small cottage a few hundred feet away belonging to the gardener and his wife. They pulled up sharply. The front of the cottage was half blown away.

  ‘Oh, no.’ Iris’s face was white. ‘We’d better try to find out if they’re hurt.’

  She gingerly stepped through the gaping hole and June watched her friend vanish into the swirling dust and debris.

  ‘I’m not sure it’s safe to go far in,’ June called out, but she followed her friend, her heart hammering with fear, and Freddie whining as he pulled on the end of his lead.

  It was almost dark and she felt the dust would suffocate her. She put her hand up to her nose to try to keep the dust out, and heard Iris trip over something. Her friend swore. Moments later she heard Iris cry out – then silence.

  ‘Iris. Are you all right?’ June called. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m here.’ Iris stumbled back into the space which had once been the front room, ‘but Mr and Mrs Sumner … oh, it’s awful, Junie … they’re still sitting at the dining table—’ She broke off.

  ‘Are they hurt?’

  ‘They’re both dead.’

  June flew back to the house leaving Iris to stay with the couple – just in case. In case what? June thought. In case they suddenly came back to life? Oh, what a waste all this was. She’d only bumped into Mr Sumner a couple of times and they’d had a short conversation, mostly to do with Bingham Hall, and Mrs Sumner had had her and Iris and Kathleen for tea one afternoon. They seemed such a sweet couple. And now they were gone. It didn’t seem possible, but June couldn’t quell the guilty thought that she would rather it be them, who were older, than one of her precious charges. As though there’d been any choice.