Edie's Home for Orphans

by Gracie Taylor

  ‘The stepmother takes all their rations for herself, Aggie says, and I believe her,’ Prue continued. ‘Both of them are smaller than they ought to be and evidently malnourished – there’s barely enough flesh on them to keep body and soul together. And Jimmy looked at Bertie’s shabby old fort as if he’d never had anything of his own to play with.’

  ‘Oh, the poor dear,’ Edie whispered. It broke her heart to think of a child without love or toys.

  ‘The girl likes to read but she’s been surviving on stolen library books and the worst sort of penny dreadfuls. The boy doesn’t know his letters and refuses to speak a word.’ Prue sighed. ‘Poor wretches. However are we going to get on with them?’

  ‘It sounds like they need some looking after.’

  ‘Yes, I rather think they do.’

  When Prue had gone to set the table, Edie cast a glance at Tilly.

  ‘So,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Prue seems to have found herself a couple more lost causes. They ought to fit right in, wouldn’t you say?’

  Chapter 19

  At half past twelve the doorbell chimed to announce the arrival of the dinner guests, and some minutes later Luca appeared in the kitchen. He looked out of place at Applefield Manor somehow, in his shabby uniform with his suntanned face and nasty-looking black eye, and he blushed furiously as he gripped his cap in both hands.

  ‘Luca.’ Tilly turned to him with a smile. ‘It’s good to see you.’

  ‘Hello, my old friend. It has felt too long.’ He took her hand and kissed it, then greeted Edie in the same way. ‘I see we will be spoiled with charming young ladies at our dinner table today.’ He pulled a face. ‘Usually we have only the boss to look at.’

  Tilly laughed. ‘Rather hard on Sam but I’m glad you feel we’re an improvement.’ She stepped forward to examine his face. ‘Luca, your eye looks awful.’

  He touched his finger to the tender area and winced. ‘It is not so painful as it was.’ He glanced at Edie. ‘Who knew the boy had such a swing on him, yes?’

  ‘Has Sam said anything to you about giving him his job back?’ Edie asked.

  ‘No. It seems he is not to be swayed.’ Luca sighed. ‘Poor Davy. He is so young, and that father of his … if he leaves the farm, he will be at the man’s mercy. A man who hates all that he sees; all that is different.’

  ‘And poor Luca too,’ Tilly said, still looking at the swollen eye. ‘Have you had anything on it, love?’

  ‘Only liver.’

  ‘I’ve got some cream for bruising in the bathroom, let me fetch it.’

  He took her elbow as she passed him. ‘Let Edie go, cara. In your condition you ought not to be running up and down flights of stairs. Trust your Dr Bianchi.’

  ‘Oh, nonsense,’ Tilly said, flicking a hand. ‘I’ve still got two legs, haven’t I?’

  When she’d disappeared Luca shook his head at Edie, smiling. ‘I never knew a girl like her for wilfulness.’

  ‘Please, sit down,’ Edie asked. ‘Where’s Marco?’

  Luca helped himself to a chair. ‘Mrs Hewitt has him looking at her broken gramophone player. Marco is good with these things.’

  ‘And you came to the kitchen to …’

  ‘Oh! Yes.’ He took an envelope from his pocket. ‘To deliver this to your friend Miss Liddell. It accompanies the gift of a leg of mutton.’

  Edie frowned. ‘From Sam?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Before Edie could make further enquiries, Tilly returned with a tube of cream.

  ‘Thank you, Matilda,’ Luca said earnestly. ‘You are too kind, always.’

  ‘Close your eye and let me put some on for you then,’ Tilly said.

  Smiling, he closed his sore eye and submitted to having the cream applied.

  ‘Your friend forgets who is the doctor,’ he observed to Edie while Tilly worked in the cream with gentle finger-tips.

  ‘Well, even doctors sometimes have to be patients,’ Tilly said. ‘No, don’t move your head. It’ll sting to blazes if it goes in your eye.’

  ‘Yes, Nurse.’ He caught sight of the crude silver ring on her finger. ‘You still wear this old thing, I see.’

  ‘Always.’ Her fingers moved dextrously over the sore flesh. ‘Young Davy really gave you quite a sock, didn’t he?’

  ‘He sure did. I don’t know whether to be angry or impressed. Mainly I think I am just embarrassed that such a little boy got the best of me.’

  ‘I heard some news of him this morning,’ Tilly said with a sideways glance at Edie. ‘Sally Constance from the dairy farm always brings me the gossip with the milk.’

  ‘About his job?’ Edie asked.

  Tilly shook her head. ‘No, his brother. The family had another telegram to say Geordie was reported captured. He’s being held in a prisoner of war camp in Italy.’

  Luca nodded with satisfaction. ‘This is good. He will be safe there until he can come home.’

  Tilly finished tending to his eye and screwed the cap back on the tube. ‘There, all better. Take the cream with you and apply it every day, then in a week you’ll be just as handsome as ever.’ She went to wash her hands.

  Luca blinked a few times and stood up. ‘And how is the health of my first and favourite patient on English soil? Does the baby give her any trouble?’

  Tilly laughed. ‘He does today, little sod. He’s never stopped kicking me all morning.’ She glanced up from the sink. ‘Come and feel for yourself. He’s at it now.’

  Luca looked pleased. ‘May I?’

  ‘Certainly, I’m sure Baby Liddell would be honoured to give you a boot in the knuckles. He’s a real brawler.’

  ‘Ah, so he takes after his mother,’ Luca said with a grin.

  She rolled her eyes at Edie. ‘So much for this famed Italian chivalry, eh?’

  Luca went to rest a hand on her swollen stomach, and looked up in delight when he felt the baby give a vigorous kick.

  ‘A strong one, by God!’

  ‘Don’t I know it? My insides must be as bruised as your eye,’ Tilly said. ‘You’d better go into the dining room, Luca. We’ll be eating shortly.’

  ‘Just a moment. I came in here on an errand, before you began your nursemaiding.’ He handed her the envelope he’d brought. ‘There is a leg of mutton as well, in your porch. A gift from Sam. He has slaughtered a sheep for his workers this week, to reward our hard work during lambing, and he insisted Applefield Manor share the bounty.’

  Tilly gave a nod that seemed more than a little conspiratorial to Edie’s watchful eye.

  ‘Please thank him for me,’ she said earnestly. ‘I do appreciate it. More than I can say.’

  As Prue rang the old bell in the dining room to summon the household, she realised she had gone from looking forward to this dinner to dreading it.

  The evacuees’ upbringing had obviously left a lot to be desired, and she had no idea how they would behave over their meal. Could they even use a knife and fork? Goodness knew what her guests would think of these two feral little animals slurping soup in their midst. Italians always seemed so refined and well-bred. Prue could almost hear the click of her mother’s tongue, telling her she’d failed in her duties as hostess – as she did at all things.

  She was relieved, at least, to see the children arrive in the dining room with their feet, legs and faces washed, although they were still barefoot. The way they constantly scratched worried her though. Might they have lice? She shuddered as she thought about what other horrors they might be harbouring in their little bodies – ringworm, impetigo and goodness knew what. She must speak to Dr MacKenzie about checking them over.

  Edith, who was already in her seat, smiled at the pair and beckoned for them to sit by her. Prue was sitting opposite, between Marco and Jack.

  Luca took Bertie’s place at the head of the table, next to Tilly’s empty chair. He had been anxious to stay close to the kitchen hatch so he could help bring in the food, which was typical of the considerate young man. Prue had grown quit
e attached to the two Italians on the occasions she’d been in their company. They were always so anxious to be helpful, and with such impeccable manners, that it was a delight to have them as guests.

  The little girl, Aggie, looked rather more cheerful than she had when she’d arrived. The gift of the books seemed to have taken some of the edge off her hostility. Jimmy, however, looked the same as before: pale and frightened, huddling close to his sister.

  ‘Hello,’ Edith greeted the children brightly. ‘Jimmy and Aggie, isn’t it? I’m Edie, I live here too.’

  Aggie turned to examine her curiously.

  ‘Is that posh lady your mum then, Miss?’ She nodded at Prue, who pretended she hadn’t heard.

  ‘No, I’m a Land Girl,’ Edith told them. ‘That means the people in charge of the war sent me here to help grow food. I haven’t been here very long yet: not much more than a fortnight.’

  But Aggie’s thoughts were elsewhere.

  ‘Here, do you know what they got in this place?’ she asked Edith in a very audible whisper. ‘Only a bloody privy. In the house! You pull a chain and all the water swirls out of it.’

  Well, Prue thought, that accounted for the four or five flushes she’d heard while she was in her room with Marco, trying to repair the gramophone. She must have a word with the children about wasting water – not to mention their language and choice of conversation while at the table.

  ‘It’s terrific, isn’t it?’ Edith said, smiling at the little girl’s excitement. ‘We never had an indoor one either. I’m from London too, like you.’

  Prue had to admire the way Edith was so quickly able to develop a rapport with the children. She spoke to them in such a cheerful, relaxed way that they couldn’t help but warm to her. Why couldn’t Prue do the same? Already Aggie was opening like a daisy, inclining towards Edith like an old friend.

  ‘Where in London you from then?’ Aggie asked Edith.

  ‘Pimlico. How about you?’

  ‘Bethnal Green. We got a lot of bombs there.’ The girl lowered her eyes. ‘One of them killed our dad.’

  ‘I know, sweetheart. Some of my friends died too. But we’ll be safe here.’

  ‘Till they send us away,’ Aggie muttered.

  Edith frowned. ‘Why do you say that, Aggie?’

  ‘We’re always getting sent away. We been in two houses afore this one, and they both slung us out. First one reckoned she had heart trouble and couldn’t keep us, but she never. The last lady says we was “uncoof” and she didn’t want us near her kids.’

  Aggie primped her little finger and lifted her nose in a comical impersonation of her previous landlady, and Edith laughed. Prue, talking to Marco at the other side of the table but watching and listening all the while, felt a smile twitching on her lips too.

  This was new information though. Patty hadn’t mentioned anything about the pair having been evacuated before.

  ‘Well, no one will send you away this time,’ Prue heard Edith tell them.

  ‘You promise, do you, Miss?’

  ‘I certainly do.’

  ‘Ain’t your house though, is it?’

  ‘No, but if you behave yourselves then I don’t see why anyone would want to send you home again.’

  Prue realised Marco was talking to her and turned her attention to him.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Pia, what were you saying?’

  ‘I only apologise that I could not fix your gramophone, Mrs Hewitt,’ he told her earnestly.

  ‘Oh, please don’t worry about that. It was very good of you to try.’

  ‘And when you have been so good as to have us into your beautiful home.’ The poor man looked genuinely mortified. ‘I am so sorry.’

  ‘That’s the least I can do,’ Prue said, giving his hand a heartfelt pat. ‘I’m sure your people wouldn’t hesitate to do the same for our men who are prisoners in Italy.’

  ‘Of course, they shall be taken good care of until we can all go home again.’ He sighed. ‘I wish I had been able to do more. For your gramophone, I mean. It appears the motor is broken, but I cannot see where the problem lies.’

  Prue became aware that Aggie was observing them. It came as no surprise that the child had never been taught it was poor manners to eavesdrop on your elders.

  ‘Yes, Aggie? Did you want to say something?’ Prue said, lifting her eyebrows.

  ‘Here, you’re a wop, ain’t you?’ the child said to Marco.

  Marco looked taken aback, and Prue frowned at the girl. ‘Aggie, we don’t use that word in this house. Say sorry to Mr Pia at once or you may eat your dinner in the kitchen.’

  ‘Say sorry for what?’ The child turned a puzzled look on Edith. ‘What did I say wrong, Miss? Ain’t that the right word?’

  ‘It’s not a very polite word,’ Edith said, sending Prue a worried look. ‘When people use it, they’re usually … well, they’re usually not being very nice. But you didn’t mean it in that way, did you, Aggie?’

  ‘That’s just what our dad said. I thought that’s what they were called, people like him.’

  Prue felt Jack nudge her under the table.

  ‘Softly, Cheggy,’ he muttered. ‘Little lass don’t know any better.’

  ‘In polite company we say Italian, if we find we need to say anything,’ Prue told Aggie in a gentler voice. ‘But as you didn’t know that then I shan’t be angry with you. Just remember for next time.’

  The damage had been done, however, and the child’s surly frown returned. Marco tried to ease the situation.

  ‘Where there is no intent to hurt then there is no hurt,’ he said with a warm smile. ‘Give it no further thought, Aggie.’

  ‘Didn’t mean nothing by it,’ the girl muttered.

  ‘I know that. We are all learning new things, every day. You know, I have a little girl of my own just your age back in Italy.’

  But Aggie wasn’t to be won over and she retreated behind her protective armour as Luca brought over a tureen of cock-a-leekie soup from the kitchen hatch.

  ‘Bet we definitely get sent away now,’ Prue heard her whisper to her brother.

  Prue stood to serve the soup, overcome with guilt for being so quick to snap. As usual, Jack had played the voice of conscience in her ear and she realised she had badly misjudged the situation. Of course Aggie didn’t know any better. Why should she, when she’d never been taught otherwise?

  Dinner seemed to have a positive effect on the children, however. There wasn’t much meat with the main course, but there were plenty of mashed potatoes to go with it and as much boiled vegetables and gravy as each of them could manage. Both evacuees had second helpings, and Prue was pleased to see they had at least a rudimentary knowledge of how to use a knife and fork. By the time pudding was served Aggie had stopped frowning, while Jimmy’s face was wreathed in smiles. Mash, boiled cabbage and liver was hardly what you’d call a banquet fit for a king, but Prue suspected the little chap had never eaten so well.

  She offered to serve the pudding herself, and while bringing Aggie a bowl of rhubarb crumble she crouched down by her.

  ‘Aggie, I owe you an apology,’ she said quietly. ‘It was wrong of me to embarrass you in front of everyone at the table. None of us know the bad words from the good until someone tells us, and as no one told you until today I had no right to threaten to punish you. I was a foolish old lady and I ought to say I’m sorry.’

  Aggie looked up at her, her eyes wide. ‘You’re saying sorry to me, Missus?’

  ‘That’s right. When people are wrong they ought to say sorry, you know – even adults.’

  ‘So … you mean you ain’t going to send us away?’

  ‘I am certainly not going to send you away. You were brought here to keep you safe.’ She glanced at Edith. ‘I promise.’

  Edith smiled. ‘Well done,’ she mouthed.

  ‘Anyhow, I was only listening to you and the – to the Italian man ’cause I wanted to say something,’ Aggie said. ‘’Bout your record player.’

 
; ‘What did you want to say?’

  ‘Wanted to say that our Jimmy can fix it.’ She swelled with pride. ‘He can fix anything, told you. Just let him have a go.’

  Prue hesitated. Letting a seven-year-old boy tinker with a complicated piece of machinery would surely spell the end of it, but she didn’t want to trigger the girl’s defensive barriers now she seemed to be opening up again.

  ‘Well … perhaps he might take a look,’ she said cautiously. ‘But eat up your pudding first, then you may leave the table.’

  The children didn’t need telling twice. They ate their way through two bowls of crumble and custard each before they were done, in half the time it took the adults around the table to finish one. The way they’d shovelled down their food, Prue was rather worried they were going to spend all night throwing it up again.

  When they’d finished, Prue agreed that they could go look at the faulty gramophone. Jimmy still hadn’t spoken a word but she could see that he was bouncing with excitement.

  ‘I want to see this,’ Jack said as Prue stood to accompany them. He took his pewter pint pot of brown ale from the table and followed the three of them upstairs.

  In Prue’s bedroom, the two adults watched with amazement as the little boy deftly ran his hands over the old machine, peering inside, flipping open veneer panels, then tilting it so he could look underneath. He looked as if he’d been repairing gramophones from the cradle.

  ‘What do you think of these two then?’ Prue asked Jack under her breath. ‘You haven’t said a word through dinner. I know that means you’ve been making up your mind.’

  ‘The girl pretends to be tough because she thinks she has to protect the boy,’ he murmured back. ‘Doesn’t trust anyone, especially adults; a born survivor. The lad’s haunted by something, or more likely several things. It’s in his eyes, clear as day.’

  Prue had come to the same conclusion herself. She saw something in Jimmy’s eyes that she also recognised in Jack’s. There was more that could scar a man – or a boy – than the battlefield.