by Molly Green
‘I think David’s going to go one further than that,’ Iris said, her blue eyes sparkling mischievously, and a faint flush on her cheeks.
‘Really?’ June looked across at her friend. ‘You seem to be in the know all of a sudden. What’s he planning?’
‘Wait and see,’ Iris said, smiling. ‘Just wait and see.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
June hadn’t forgotten her suspicions that it was Gilbert who’d called Joachim that terrible name. She kept a strict eye on him, and she and Iris had a quick chat every evening in the common room to see whether he’d slipped up when he thought no one was in earshot by calling any of the children distasteful names.
‘He’s such a slippery character,’ Iris said, stretching out her legs. Kathleen was reading a book and David was making notes, which he’d told them were for the following day’s history lesson. They’d agreed they wouldn’t speak about their suspicion to any people they considered ‘possibilities’, but really there was only a handful – Matron, Hilda, Miss Ayles, who hadn’t yet left and had made her view known on several occasions that she disapproved of having a German child in their midst … and Gilbert.
‘Why does Matron still have him here?’ June said under her breath. ‘You don’t think they’re in cahoots at all?’
‘I wouldn’t put it past them.’ Iris fumbled in her bag for her packet of cigarettes. She found them and flipped open the lid. ‘Anyone?’ She vaguely waved the packet in the air. ‘No takers? Then, thank you, I’ll have one myself.’
David looked across at her and smiled. He rose to his feet and striking a match he ambled over. He bent to light Iris’s cigarette and June was amused to see how Iris closed her hand around his as though to steady it and looked up into David’s warm brown eyes. The cigarette took hold and Iris pulled in a deep breath and exhaled a blue stream of smoke.
‘Oh, that’s better,’ she said, her face visibly relaxing. ‘I’ve had quite a day. Woolfie seems to have stomach trouble. I’m a bit worried about him.’
‘I think his stomach is adjusting to proper food and more of it,’ David said, sitting down near the two girls. ‘From what I gather, his family were very short of food in Berlin – most of the shops refuse to serve Jews – and then coming here, well, I’m ashamed to say we haven’t treated the boy much better. We English, I mean – his foster parents specifically. The body takes time to adjust and he’s had one shock after another.’ He winced as he stretched out his legs. ‘Did Iris tell you I came down in the early hours one morning and heard a Chopin nocturne? I honestly thought I’d somehow left the gramophone on in the classroom. It was Joachim playing it on a violin. It sounded just as wonderful as on a piano. I was amazed, I can tell you. I asked him where he’d got the music from and he said he’d brought several pieces from Germany in his satchel. He told me they were his most precious possessions.’
‘No wonder he was so worried when he couldn’t find his satchel that time we had a bombing raid,’ June said.
‘Quite.’ David nodded. ‘So I’m going to see he gets all the help he possibly can.’
‘In what way?’ June was genuinely interested.
‘Well, I’ve probably got enough experience and knowledge to teach him for a year. By then he’ll be ahead of me. The inspector for Dr Barnardo’s didn’t know when he picked him up off the street that he was doing a good turn for a child genius.’
‘Good gracious.’ June’s mouth fell open. ‘Is he really a genius?’
‘He seems to be. As I was telling Iris yesterday, I’ve saved a fair bit of money from my years in the orchestra, then when my wife died four years ago I sold the house – couldn’t bear to stay in it any longer without her there. I decided to rent, but now I’m here I don’t even have to pay that. I want to help the lad and I’ve already made enquiries for him to go to the Royal Academy of Music in London. If they accept him he’ll be set for life.’
‘My goodness, what an achievement if he gets in,’ June said. ‘I’m sure he will – he seems so dedicated.’
‘Does he have to have an audition?’ Iris asked.
‘Oh, yes. And an extremely tough one. But I think he’ll do it standing on his head. Well, not quite standing on his head, but you know what I mean.’ David’s dark eyes twinkled.
‘That would be the way to grab their attention,’ Iris said with a grin.
‘I’m leaving you lot,’ Kathleen suddenly called across to them as she snapped her book closed. ‘Very difficult to read when you’re all yakking.’
‘Sorry, Kathleen.’ Iris threw her an apologetic smile. ‘Truth is, I think we all forgot you were there, you were so quiet. Were we being awfully loud?’
‘Not really.’ Kathleen was deathly pale. ‘It’s me. I’m just sick to death of this damn war. Sick of never getting letters from Robert. Sick of worrying about him – if anything bad’s happened, if I’ll ever see him again. I heard on the wireless this morning that another one of our ships has been sunk by those damn U-boats. It’s not his this time, but who knows when it’ll be his turn? It’s just too horrible for words.’ She got up, tears streaming down her face.
June jumped up as well. She put her arm round Kathleen. ‘Do you fancy having a cup of cocoa in the kitchen, just you and me?’ She touched the girl’s arm and winked, gesturing with her head towards Iris and David.
Kathleen nodded and gave a weak smile. ‘I’d like that very much,’ she said.
The following morning before going into Assembly Iris said she wanted to talk to June in private. Could they meet after dinner and go for a walk down the drive and back? Immediately June said yes, she could do with the exercise.
Well wrapped up with scarves and hats and gloves, the girls met outside the house and began to walk briskly down the drive towards the lane.
‘You sounded very mysterious,’ June remarked when they’d gone only a couple of hundred yards.
‘It’s just that I didn’t want anyone within earshot, but you know when you and Kathleen left us last night?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, David said he thinks we’re right. He thinks it is Gilbert calling Woolfie names. When David passed him yesterday morning he heard Gilbert muttering under his breath about damned Jews.’ She stopped and turned to June, her blue eyes fixed on her friend’s. ‘You’ve probably guessed that David is a Jew?’
‘No, I hadn’t,’ June replied. ‘And even if I had, what difference does it make?’
‘That’s my point. It shouldn’t make any difference to anyone. But it seems to badly get up Gilbert’s nose. If he could say that in David’s hearing, I’m sure he could say it straight out to a child.’
June shuddered.
‘And there’s another thing,’ Iris said as they continued walking. ‘I don’t know why I’ve never noticed it before. David pointed it out. The way Gilbert looks. Have you ever seen him in anything different? Anything coloured, like a bright jumper, for instance?’
June gazed at Iris in surprise. What on earth was she getting at?
‘No,’ Iris answered her own question, ‘he always wears the same black trousers and black shirt like he’s just going or just coming from a funeral. And who else wears a black shirt?’ June blinked. ‘Someone who was quite famous,’ Iris prompted.
And then it dawned. June froze. ‘Oswald Mosley – leader of the Fascists,’ she said, shivering not from the cold but from her words. She swallowed hard. ‘But I thought that had all broken up ages ago.’
‘It might have,’ Iris said. ‘But just because a movement breaks up, it doesn’t mean to say the members don’t think the same as they always did. If you have the mentality to join a Nazi party, then just because you no longer go to rallies and meetings doesn’t mean you’ve altered your opinion on Jews or gypsies or anyone else Mr Hitler deems not worthy to be called human beings.’
‘Oh, Iris, it’s just too horrible. What are we going to do?’
‘We’re going to talk to Matron. We’re going to get rid of him.’
June and Iris sat in front of Matron in her office. Matron leaned back in her chair, blowing out clouds of smoke. June got her handkerchief out and pressed it to her nose, trying not to cough.
‘So what is this all about?’ Matron demanded.
‘We wondered if you’ve found out who the person was who called Joachim horrible names.’ June watched Matron’s expression intently.
Matron shook her head. ‘No, nothing. I’ve come to the conclusion it’s all a fabrication.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Iris said firmly. ‘Mr Cannon’s had much the same indirectly said to him.’
‘Oh.’ Matron tapped the ash into the saucer of her teacup. ‘Well, go on.’
‘Because you know Mr Cannon’s Jewish, don’t you?’ Iris practically threw the words across the desk.
‘Well, no, I hadn’t realised until I met him … and guessed he was.’
‘Would it have made any difference if you’d known?’
‘I will not lower myself to answer such a question.’ Matron glared at Iris through her spectacles, her confidence seeming to return.
‘Because the Dr Barnardo’s creed is that we accept everyone – every child, whatever the colour of their skin, or their religion,’ Iris went on. ‘And that must go for the members of staff as well.’
‘Please do not tell me what the creed is,’ Matron snapped. ‘I’m only too well aware.’
‘You haven’t asked Iris who made the remarks to Mr Cannon,’ June said.
Matron drew her mouth into a straight line.
‘It was Gilbert!’ Iris banged her hand down on the desk, making Matron jump. ‘Gilbert muttered something about damned Jews when he went past David yesterday. That’s pretty close to naming someone a dirty Jew, I would have thought. Wouldn’t you, Matron?’
Matron’s face whitened. When she finally spoke, her voice was like ice.
‘I would expect you to keep your observations to yourself. You have no proof. And I will not have the staff upset with such allegations, do you hear?’ Her broad chest rose and fell with the thrust of her fury.
‘No, I don’t hear,’ Iris said unwaveringly. ‘I don’t intend to let this drop.’
‘If you dare say one thing more, I can assure you, Miss Marchant, your position here will be terminated immediately. You, too, Miss Lavender. Now go – both of you. I have work to do.’ She got up and walked to the door, opened it and practically pushed them out. ‘Not another word. And I mean it.’ The door slammed behind them.
‘She’s worried,’ Iris said. ‘And so she should be. I will not be threatened by that woman. In fact, I’m going to telephone Mr Clarke straightaway.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
March 1942
‘Letters,’ Kathleen said, coming into the common room before lessons began. She was waving a thick bundle of post, and June’s heart lifted in hope that there might be something for her.
It had been over a month since June had heard anything from Murray. She was beginning to worry. Of course he was busy and she knew he often went without much sleep for days at a time, but why hadn’t he even sent a postcard? Every time she heard the roar of an aeroplane going over, her heart would stand still with terror. She would strain to look up, picturing him at the controls, concentrating with all his might – she daren’t think about the enemy firing at him, damaging his aeroplane … or worse. She closed her eyes and immediately the image of his aeroplane was in front of her, cartwheeling out of control, plunging into the sea in flames. It happened so many times these days it was becoming almost normal and she’d had to learn to let the image fade and not give in to tears. If only she had a letter from him this awful worry would stop, she was sure of it.
‘Athena.’ Kathleen gave the teacher a couple of envelopes. ‘Oh, there’s actually one for me here.’ She glanced at the address, pulled a face before tucking it into her pocket, and continued sorting the rest of them. When June had given up hope Kathleen handed her the last envelope.
‘For you,’ she said, with a knowing smile and a saucy wink.
June tried to look perfectly composed as she took the letter without even glancing at the writing. She didn’t have to. It was the same military envelope he’d sent her a letter in before. Heart pounding, she excused herself, saying she needed to collect something from her room.
Dear Junie,
Sorry I’ve not been in touch lately. Been really busy here. But I do need to talk. Can we go somewhere? Maybe supper and a film afterwards if you fancy it?
What about this coming Monday on your day off? Could you do six o’clock at The Barn restaurant? It’s just before you get to Brown’s Books.
Yours,
Murray
June read the note again, slightly puzzled. She went to her ‘special’ drawer – the one with precious items such as Clara’s photograph, one with her mother and Stella together, both smiling, and Murray’s two letters with the brooch. She picked up the last letter from him and spread them out side by side, comparing them, knowing she was being foolish but not being able to help herself.
Yes, she was right. He’d put a kiss on the previous one and said how he was looking forward to seeing her again. There was nothing of the kind on this one. She frowned. Maybe it was because he’d written it in haste. Yes, that would be it. She had nothing to worry about. Those kisses when they’d last said goodbye gave her all the reason in the world to think he was beginning to fall in love with her. She gave herself a little hug of excitement. He wanted to talk to her.
She couldn’t wait to hear.
She’d arranged to take the bus into town. Petrol was short and, if the note was anything to go by, Murray’s time was tight. As soon as she’d arrived in Liverpool she was reminded again of how lucky they all were at Bingham Hall. Except for that one raid, so far the home had escaped the wrath of the Luftwaffe the past year. Her heart went out to a cat and two dogs, all with their ribs showing, sniffing for any signs of food in the heaps of rubbish. How she wished she had something to give them. The wind was bitter and she tightened her scarf and pulled her hat down a little more. She was early, as she’d planned to be. It was just that she wanted to see him first. Watch him from a distance, and gradually let him become clearer as she moved towards him.
Suddenly, there he was, looking in the other direction. He was back in uniform. She was thinking how different he looked in civilian clothes – she liked either way – when he turned his head more fully in her direction. He was looking serious, even when he caught sight of her and waved. She began to panic again but inwardly gathered her courage; he obviously had something important he wanted to discuss. Then he smiled and kissed her cheek, and her heart melted as he took her arm and they walked to the restaurant chatting about nothing in particular. She wouldn’t get agitated. He’d tell her in his own time.
All through the meal June was aware that he kept glancing at her, a thoughtful expression on his face. She thought she would burst if he didn’t tell her soon.
‘Can we go to the later showing of the film?’ He ran his hand through his hair making the front stick up in a tuft.
She wanted to lean over and straighten it but he might think her too forward, and anyway the waiter was hovering, ready to give them the bill.
‘Yes, of course.’ June put her knife and fork neatly together, trying to appear calm, though inwardly her heart was hammering.
There was another silence.
‘Is everything all right?’ she asked, really concerned now.
Maybe he was being sent away. It would be more difficult for them to stay in touch, if so. She worried about him. He’d been lucky so far but he could go up today or tomorrow or next week or next month and never come back.
‘Yes, as right as it can be. Defending Liverpool is a darned sight better than taking off for Germany at night with a load of bombs.’ He gave her a rueful smile. ‘Not that it’s without its moments.’
Her stomach lurched as it always did when she imagined him flying
his aeroplane and fending off the Germans at the same time. To her, it never seemed humanly possible, and certainly not the easy option.
‘Anyway, I don’t want to talk about work, even if I was allowed to.’ Murray put his hand out and covered hers. Instantly, she felt a bolt of electricity rush up her arm. ‘I’d like us to be somewhere private but it’s so difficult these days.’
June gave a quick glance round the room. ‘I don’t think anyone’s taking any notice of us.’
‘Still …’ Murray sounded uncertain.
June waited. After a long pause he finally spoke.
‘I bless the day we met on the train and then by wonderful chance in the bookshop.’
Her heart lifted. ‘Me, too,’ she faltered.
‘You’re also the prettiest girl I’ve ever known. And the sweetest.’
A warmth and longing flooded through her. It was going to be all right. She looked straight into his bright-blue eyes, crinkling at the corners. Then she took a mental step backwards. His eyes weren’t full of love but filled with anxiety. What was the matter? She told herself not to be a fool. Of course. He was worried what she might say. He wouldn’t want to commit himself and embarrass her if she didn’t feel the same. Yes, that was it.
‘June, you know how very, very fond I am of you?’
Fond? That wasn’t the word she was hoping to hear. But she nodded. And waited.
‘I do love you, you know.’
Oh, Murray.
He was right. They needed to be private. She was aware of the couple at the next table clattering their cutlery and clinking their wine glasses. She could see out of the corner of her eye the man lean across and kiss the woman’s lips. They were obviously madly in love. They certainly didn’t care about privacy. But she did. Though what did it matter? She and Murray loved each other and soon the whole world would know. She opened her mouth to tell him she loved him too.
‘But not in the way you deserve.’ He squeezed her hand gently.