by Lizzie Lane
She cocked her head to one side in a pertly attractive manner. Her hair was blonde and her lips very red. She was pretty, though perhaps wearing too much make-up.
‘She was unconscious when you found her?’
Ray nodded. ‘Yes. She was also very cold and very hungry. I don’t think she’d eaten for days.’
‘It does seem that way. She’s very weak.’
Ray frowned while nodding that he understood. ‘Has she said anything at all?’
Her crisp headdress crackled as she shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. We don’t know her name. We’ve asked her but she just looks at us blankly before sliding back into unconsciousness.’ Her voice was husky.
‘Have you tried other languages?’
She eyed him as though he’d said something slightly insulting. ‘We are not stupid. We’ve tried everything. She knows a little French, some English but mostly German. The problem isn’t that she doesn’t understand, it’s that she can’t remember who she is. Judging by how thin she is, and how poorly dressed, she’s been through an awful lot. It’s as though she’s blocked out everything that happened before you found her. People quite often block out terrible incidents. It’s all part of the survival instinct. Have you any idea what she might have gone through?’
Ray thought of the rumours coming out of Germany, some too terrible to believe. At first, they had been disregarded precisely because they were so horrible. Now they were starting to be believed.
Instead of answering the sister’s question he asked, ‘What will happen to her if she can’t remember her name and no relatives are found?’
The sister’s starched headdress crackled again as she smoothed down the sheet fold, lifting first one of the girl’s hands then the other, scrutinising her work with quiet efficiency. She reminded him of Meg.
‘She’ll probably go to an orphanage until she recovers enough to remember who she is. Unless we can find a home environment, but in these troubled times, what with thousands of homeless and evacuees all needing accommodation …’ She sighed heavily then looked down at the neat little watch pinned to the top of her crisp white apron. Ray noticed the time was detailed upside down so she could lift it up in her long white fingers and read it right away. He also read her name as Sister Rossiter.
‘Sister Rossiter,’ he said, bending his head so she could see he was trying to read her name.
‘Edith. You can call me Edith,’ she said softly.
Ray smiled. ‘Edith. Can I stay with her a minute?’
She eyed him apprehensively, though her mind was already made up. ‘Is it true what you said about finding her in France?’
He nodded.
‘Poor thing.’
‘You can say that again. God knows what she went through. I found her in a field half dead with only a dog for company.’
‘What happened to the dog?’
Ray grinned. ‘He landed on his feet. He’s living at the base with me.’
She flashed him an approving smile. ‘That’s very kind of you.’
His grin widened and the accompanying wink made her blush. ‘I’m a very kind man.’
It was against the rules but Edith Rossiter knew she was beaten. Though she shook her head disapprovingly, her red lips smiled. ‘Five minutes. That’s all.’ She went to fuss at another bed across the ward, closing the curtain around a groaning patient while Ray pulled up a chair.
Now how to approach this? He recalled the girl’s eyes flickering and that one sweet smile when he’d promised her that the dog was going flying too. He shook his head sadly. Very lightly, he tapped her hand with his finger.
‘Rudy sends his love. Hey. Do you remember him? Rudy, the dog you were with?’
Her eyes flickered open and she attempted to raise her head from the pillow.
‘Now, now,’ Ray soothed. ‘Take it easy. Rudy is fine and living with me. You do remember me, don’t you? The man who flies aeroplanes. I took both of you up into the big blue yonder. Whoosh,’ he said, flying his hand through the air in imitation of an aircraft.
The girl frowned and Ray was disappointed. He’d fully expected her to respond to him mentioning the dog’s name, even if she didn’t know who he was. After all, she’d only met him that one night and even then, for the most part, she’d been out of it. It hooked at his heart to see her confusion. The poor kid didn’t know where she was.
‘The train! It’s for cattle! It’s for cattle!’ She said it in German then repeated it in French.
It was almost the same as before in the plane: a train not going to Salzburg and meant for cattle, not humans. Whatever had happened, it all went back to the train. The Resistance fighter must have been right.
Her breath caught in her throat and her sunken eyes stared at something beyond him, something only she could see. ‘Breathe!’ he urged, afraid that she was choking. ‘Breathe!’
He looked over to the other side of the ward. Sister Rossiter was still dealing with the patient behind the curtain.
Ray flung his cap on to the bed and leaned over the girl. ‘Now listen. You’re no longer on the train. You’re in hospital. Think of Rudy. You and Rudy escaped. You got away. You’re safe now. Completely safe.’
He almost thanked God out loud when her eyes opened.
‘I’m sure Rudy remembers you even if you don’t remember him. Does he know your name? Can you tell me your name so I can tell him you’re safe and well?’
The interest that had brightened her face diminished. Her jaw drooped, her eyes watered and she began to sob. ‘I don’t know my name.’ She repeated it three times: in German, French and English.
‘Are you German?’
‘I don’t know.’
He didn’t press her that she might be French, though the spy he’d picked up in France said she had a German accent and was probably a German refugee. Whoever she was, she was well educated enough to speak three languages.
‘I don’t have a name,’ she wailed again. ‘I’ve lost my name.’
Ray felt cornered. He’d thought to help her remember and all he’d done was upset her. He did his best to make amends.
‘No need to take on. How about we give you a name you can use just until you remember who you are? How would that be?’
To Ray’s delight, it seemed the pain in her eyes retreated. She nodded hesitantly.
‘Will you choose a name or would you like me to choose one for you?’
‘You.’
‘OK, as our American allies would say. Whatever you wish, ma’am!’
A faint smile came to her lips when he saluted.
‘How about we call you Lily? Like Tiger Lily in Peter Pan, or a lily growing in the garden. You know, slim and white and smelling really sweet. Would that suit you?’
She nodded and again a faint smile appeared.
‘My word! What’s going on here?’ Sister Rossiter looked surprised to see the child smiling. Ray suspected she’d retouched her lipstick. It looked redder than it had been.
‘She’s decided her name’s Lily until such time she remembers where she placed her old one. She lost it somewhere. Didn’t you, Lily? Just like you would a sixpenny bit, then find it in the pudding at Christmas. Isn’t that right, Lily?’
Lily looked puzzled.
My fault, thought Ray. The kid wouldn’t know much about Christmas, especially an English Christmas – especially if she was Jewish, which seemed to be the most likely case.
‘Are you Jewish?’
Lily looked at him wide-eyed and shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what I am.’
‘Right, young lady. That’s enough for now. Time for you to get some rest.’
Ray straightened and waited to be ushered out. Lily didn’t take her eyes off him.
Sister Rossiter insisted on escorting him out of the ward.
‘I’m not going to kidnap her, you know.’
Edith Rossiter gave him a so-so look as though she only half believed him. In fact, she was looking forward to hi
m visiting again.
As the doors to the ward swished shut behind them, Ray lingered, a whole whirligig of questions going round in his mind. Sister Rossiter noticed. ‘Is there something you want?’
‘Does she have to go to an orphanage? I mean, how about if somebody offered her a home?’
A small frown puckered between her eyebrows. ‘I dare say it would be considered if it was somebody suitable …’
‘Right! Who do I see about it?’
The ward sister’s eyebrows arched. ‘Well, for a start you have to be married …’
‘I am.’
‘Oh.’ She sounded disappointed. ‘Very well. I’ll give you the details.’
The woman she directed him to was in charge of Children’s Welfare at the local council offices, but first he had to speak to Meg. He judged there wasn’t time to make the journey to London. A telephone call would have to suffice.
Meg positively bubbled on the phone. ‘Ray! Well, this is a surprise. Don’t tell me they’ve given you extra leave … not that you don’t deserve it, but … or is it the other matter? I’ve been trying not to get my hopes up, honest I have …’
‘Meg, listen. This little girl … it might be a bit much for you. You see she’s lost her memory, or at least some of it. She can’t remember who she is so the powers that be can’t trace any relatives. The chances are that unless somebody can foster her, she’ll have to go into a home; you know, some kind of orphanage, unless they can find a decent foster home, though they are few and far between. People keep reminding me there’s a war on – as if I didn’t know. Anyway, I’ve asked if we might take her in, Meg. You might be getting more than a house to take care of …’
Contrary to what he’d feared, Meg was over the moon. ‘Ray. Oh Ray … When?’
‘Bear in mind, Meg, that things might be difficult for a while. The poor kid is half starved and can’t remember her name. She’s a pretty little thing but it won’t be easy. You have to take that on board. It isn’t going to be a sleigh ride. Could be quite a bumpy ride, in fact.’
‘I don’t care, Ray. Let’s give her a chance. If we can.’
‘I’ve got to go along and see the children’s welfare officer at the council offices in Lincoln. They’ll check our status but from what I can gather, they’re pretty desperate for volunteers to take children, what with the evacuees and houses being destroyed in London.’
‘When do you see these people?’
‘Things will take a while, so the quicker we can get the wheels turning the better. I’m on my way there now, but thought I’d better ring you to make sure you still want to do it.’
‘Of course I do! Of course we’ll have her.’
‘Just remember, at some point she might remember who she really is or somebody might claim her, so I don’t say it will be for ever, but at least we can give her a chance.’ He paused. ‘Are you sure it’s all right with you?’
‘Yes! Oh yes, of course it is.’
‘Seeing as we don’t know her real name, I’ve called her Lily. Your second name.’
‘Ray, that is so sweet of you.’
‘There is one other thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘There was a dog with her when I found her. I think he’s the only reason she managed to survive.’
Meg fell silent.
Ray closed his eyes and prayed. He’d known this would be the stumbling block but had brushed it to one side thinking that having a kid to look after would override Meg’s aversion to having an animal in the house.
‘Not a dog, Ray. I don’t want a dog. You know I’ve never liked dogs. They make me nervous. I can’t help it.’
Ray sighed. ‘You got bitten by one a very long time ago.’ He couldn’t help an element of impatience entering his voice. He wanted to say, look, you’re grown up now and bigger than the biggest dog.
‘But they make such a mess,’ she continued. ‘I would be cleaning up after it all the time and anyway, it sounds as though Lily will need all my attention.’
He held back from saying that she was cleaning all the time anyway. Best to tread carefully, he decided.
‘Never mind. The dog’s already living with me at the base. The chaps love him. Still, it’s Lily that counts. Do you think we could do it?’
‘Oh yes, Ray. I’ll sort out the guest bedroom right away. I’ll get the decorators in and see if the bargain store has got a suitable rug in stock. The curtains might have to do, but I will wash them. I want everything perfect for her when she comes. And I love the name. Lily. My middle name. You are a sweetheart.’
‘Then I’ll set the wheels in motion. I’m on my way to the Children’s Welfare Department as soon as I put this phone down.’
‘Yes! Oh, yes. Ray. Let me know as soon as everything’s been arranged. My, but I have so much to do before she comes to live with us. So much!’
Ray smiled to himself as he put down the telephone. Having a child to look after would keep his wife occupied. Perhaps she wouldn’t give so much attention over to the house. He knew she did it to keep herself buy, but it still drove him to distraction. In consequence, he felt drawn to other women who gave themselves over entirely to passion for him, not for housework. Meg couldn’t help what she was and neither could he.
Ray was relieved to discover that what he’d heard regarding homeless children was true. Thanks to the war, a lack of suitable housing, overcrowded orphanages and a torrent of evacuees flooding into the countryside, the people at the council offices sighed gratefully and swiftly checked the credentials of Mr and Mrs Malin. Without too much procrastination they decreed Lily Malin, as she was now recorded, would be allowed to live with them in Andover Avenue, London. It helped that Ray was an RAF flight officer and had the backing of his superior officer, a very well-known wing commander.
It took a further two weeks before the paperwork was completed, by which time Lily was ready to leave the hospital. Both Ray and Meg were there to collect her in their car and, although the little girl looked a little bewildered and didn’t speak much, they assured themselves that things would improve. Extra petrol rations had been obtained in order to get Lily to her new home. Once that was done the car would be mothballed; Ray tended to use the train to get to the airfield and back.
The children’s welfare officer was there to oversee the handover. ‘These are her things. It’s not much but they may prove useful.’
‘She won’t need them,’ ventured Meg, feeling very pleased with herself. ‘I’ve been given a children’s clothes ration card. I’ve bought her some new things and now I’ve seen her I know what sizes to get and can buy her some more.’
Meg thought she’d done very well. Lily was to have a new beginning and new clothes were essential.
Mrs Abbott, the children’s welfare officer, smiled knowingly. ‘The sight of her old clothes might help with her memory. Not now, perhaps, but in time. I suggest you take them.’
Feeling slightly foolish, Meg accepted the brown paper parcel. ‘We did wash them first,’ Mrs Abbott added, judging by Meg’s appearance that she might be fussy about such things. The clothes were beautifully laundered. There was no sign of the stitches that had once held a yellow star in place.
Meg exchanged a look of embarrassment with Ray. ‘I didn’t think of that. They might help. In time.’
Ray squeezed her hand. ‘You can’t think of everything.’
Recalling the yellow stitches, Ray wondered if he should mention taking Lily to a synagogue in London before leaving for home. He saw his wife’s brightly shining eyes, her glossy hair and the look of expectation on her face. For now he would ignore Lily’s religious affiliations. Best she recovered before they did anything.
‘I’ve brought you a present,’ said Meg, kneeling down so her face was level with that of the little girl. She brought out a rag doll she’d made. Its eyes were bright blue, its yellow woollen hair plaited and tied with ribbons. ‘It’s especially for you. I named her Loulou but you can name her wh
at you like.’
Lily smiled shyly. ‘Loulou,’ she repeated and hugged the doll close.
Lily was silent for the whole journey from Lincolnshire, where the airfields were based, to the neat suburbs of London, where pairs of semi-detached houses with bay windows stood in leafy-lined avenues.
Meg couldn’t help feeling nervous. They were taking on a great responsibility and she feared not being up to it. ‘Give her time,’ Ray whispered in her ear. ‘It’s a big step.’
Meg nodded. ‘I feel so privileged, but also a bit scared. I know we always said we wanted kids, but this really brings home to me what a big responsibility it is. I’m so scared of making mistakes.’
Ray grinned. ‘Even the best of parents make mistakes.’
Meg laughed. ‘I suppose so.’ She turned to Lily, leaning beside her so that she too was looking out at the countryside.
‘See how green it is, Lily. And look at the cows. Black and white mostly. Do you understand that? Black and white.’
Lily nodded. ‘Black. And white.’
‘Your English is very good. Did somebody teach you?’
Lily turned her head, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears. ‘I don’t know.’
Meg gave her a hug. ‘Never mind. You’ll remember in time. Oh, look! There’s a tractor.’
Lily’s attention went back to the passing scene.
‘Perhaps her parents were teachers,’ Meg whispered to Ray.
He agreed it was a possibility. ‘We’ll find out more in time.’
When they came to London, Lily tilted her head back, fascinated by the barrage balloons bobbing over the tall buildings of Whitehall and others in the city centre. She pointed. ‘What are they?’
It was Ray who explained. ‘It’s to prevent enemy bombers getting too close to the buildings.’
London was crowded. Lily gazed at the red buses, the policemen directing traffic and blowing whistles. They wore white armbands so their directions could be seen at night when the blackout law meant that no lights could be visible.
Meg and Ray exchanged conspiratorial glances and held hands when traffic allowed, like they did when they were courting. This was such a big adventure for them, exciting and also a little scary.