That afternoon when Nancy was outside with the children, Oliver had gone to Josephine and grabbed her glove, which was attached to a string that ran up one sleeve, across her back inside her coat and down the other. (All the children’s gloves were attached to them in this way.) Oliver had the glove in his mouth and had begun to pull while Josephine and the children shrieked with laughter until Josephine almost toppled out of the chair.
Nancy ran over and shouted for Oliver to stop. He stood perfectly still, almost like a statue. Not a muscle moving, no wagging tail. The children all watched and waited, and it was only when they started to laugh that he began running about again. Five minutes later he walked towards Josephine, put a paw on a wheel of her chair and stood perfectly still. ‘Look, Aunty Nancy!’ the children shouted. ‘He’s playing statues again.’
Nancy walked across to him and put her hands on her hips. ‘Oliver, darling, just beacause you are standing perfectly still it doesn’t mean I can’t see you or know what you’re up to.’ He edged his head nearer to Josephine. ‘No,’ Nancy said. Once more he stayed perfectly still. Nancy was highly amused. Oliver slowly turned his head and then put his head on one side, looking up with those beautiful puppy eyes …
Suddenly he grabbed the glove and ran. Josephine was screaming and there was pandemonium as the children tried to grab the dog. Josephine’s arm was stretched to its limit – and suddenly she was out of the chair, stumbling towards Oliver. As she fell, Nancy caught her.
The children stood still, shocked into silence. Oliver lay down with his head on his paws. He had been a very naughty boy. He was in trouble if Aunty Nancy’s eyes were anything to go by. He whimpered.
Billy went to him and knelt beside him. ‘It’s all right, boy,’ he said, hugging him.
But the children weren’t looking at Oliver or Billy. All eyes were on Aunty Nancy and Josephine, who was still standing up. ‘Are you all right, Josephine?’ Nancy asked, holding her steady.
Josephine burst out laughing. ‘Oh, Aunty Nancy, that was the best fun I’ve ever had.’
The children began to crowd round Josephine and Oliver began to dance round them, bounding up and down until he nearly knocked Josephine over and she had to sit back in her chair. Nancy reached out and picked Oliver up. He looked up at her with his big puppy dog eyes that always worked. Yes she was smiling now. He was very good indeed at this. Oliver waited. ‘Well, Oliver,’ she said, ‘that was certainly one way of getting her out of the chair. Do you think we could find a safer way next time?’ Oliver barked in reply.
‘Well done, good boy. Now off you go and play,’ Nancy told him and he leapt out of her arms.
Nancy walked around watching the children play thinking how happy they looked. They wheeled Josephine around and today she was laughing and shouting along with the rest of them. Their little faces were red and flushed with the cold and Nancy could see their breath, yet as she looked around, every child was smiling happily. Wish I had a camera, thought Nancy; this would be the most perfect picture ever. Still, with or without a camera, I will never forget this sight as long as I live. As Nancy gathered the children together, telling them it was time to get washed for lunch, they were all pleading to come back out again later. ‘Tomorrow,’ Nancy said, ‘I promise, tomorrow.’ Mr Bell took Oliver back and waved to them, calling goodbye. It really was quite wonderful to see him smiling, Nancy thought.
After lunch the children went into the playroom and some of the younger ones fell asleep on cushions after their busy morning outside. Nancy set up the ironing board as she watched them. The hospital had been right. Josephine could stand unaided. A bit wobbly, perhaps, but she could certainly do it. Oliver had shown them that. More encouragement was needed.
Later that afternoon, after her mammoth ironing session, she passed Mr Bell’s cottage and heard hammering. What on earth was going on? She walked over and knocked on the door. Immediately, Oliver was barking.
‘Who is it?’
‘It’s me, Mr Bell. Are you all right?’
‘Busy,’ he shouted, and the hammering continued once more.
‘Oh, well, that’s that then,’ thought Nancy.
Nancy set off back down the driveway. Cook waved at her from the window and Nancy waved back. What a good life this is, she thought, and what a wonderful day it’s been.
Now, I wonder what Mr Bell is up to …
A New Start
Jennifer never knew when the feeling would resurface. Sometimes it just took her by surprise. Today it had been a song on the wireless that made her cry. She never told Michael how much she cried. He was working hard to make his way in the world, he had told her yesterday, then swung her up into his strong arms. Jennifer had laughed and pretended to be happy. She had wanted to say, ‘Why? What’s the point? It’s not like we have a family to feed,’ which would have been terribly unfair. Michael was her family and she loved him with all her heart. But, she thought, he should be a father, with a young child bouncing on his knee. She began to cry again as she imagined him with a child on his shoulders.
Michael worked shifts so she was expected to stay at home, make sure there was always a hot meal on the table no matter what time of day or night he came home. Was this it for the rest of her life? Cooking, washing, cleaning: was that really all the future held for her? Last week he had told her he had been promoted, which would mean more money for them. Going up in the world, he had said excitedly. They already had enough to pay the bills, buy food or go out if they wished. Recently he had treated her to a new handbag and a pretty scarf, and there would be a trip to the hairdresser next week when he got his bonus. Why do we need more money, with no child? she thought.
Last week she had met Julia from the office where she used to work when she was shopping and they had gone for a coffee in the local café. ‘I want to come back to work,’ Jennifer told her. ‘I’m going crazy at home.’
‘Will Michael let you?’ Julia asked.
‘I don’t know that I care,’ Jennifer replied. ‘I’m sick and tired of people telling me what to do.’
‘What about … well, you know?’
‘Nothing’s happening, and maybe nothing ever will. I lost my baby and everyone just says I should get over it.’ Jennifer’s hand was shaking and once more the tears were in her eyes – they almost never went away. ‘It was my baby, Julia, and I loved it from the moment I knew I was pregnant. It was a boy, I know it. I imagined how he would sit on my knee when I told him stories, how he would sit on Michael’s shoulders. I could smell him, feel him in my arms, and then he was gone. Believe me, Julia, if I could get over it I would, but I’m in that house on my own, cleaning and polishing, looking at the clock, checking what time the meal needs to be prepared and I’m fed up. I need to do something so I am not constantly thinking about it all.’
‘Go on, then,’ Julia said. ‘We need someone in the office who knows what to do. I’ve been promoted to junior manager so I could put your name forward. The last two youngsters we got in haven’t a clue. They do as little as possible, then take their pay packets at the end of the week. It would be rather wonderful to have you back. Leave it with me.’
Jenny thought for a moment. ‘Thank you. I’ll discuss it with Michael tonight.’
Jennifer had a spring in her step when she called at the butcher’s on her way home. Would Michael be angry? She hoped not. She’d make a lovely dinner for him tonight. Fortunately he’d be home at five today and they would have the evening together. Perfect, Jennifer thought. She was nervous, though, and spent the afternoon going over the speech she planned to make to Michael. She almost let the potatoes boil dry, then burned her finger on the matches lighting the gas, her hand was shaking so much.
Once the dinner was prepared she lit the fire. Michael liked nothing more than walking through the door to a roaring fire and the smell of dinner cooking. He would kiss her, then go upstairs to wash and change. Jennifer would switch the big light off and leave the lamp on. They would have dinner, and a
fter she had cleared up, she would tell Michael her plans. This was a good idea, yet as the day went on Jennifer felt less and less sure of herself.
Michael was whistling as he walked through the door. ‘Something smells nice,’ he called. ‘I’m going straight upstairs to wash.’
Jennifer served dinner and put the lamp on. Michael didn’t miss the flush in her cheeks as he kissed her. ‘You’re looking mighty pretty and dinner smells wonderful.’
‘Tuck in then,’ she said.
Michael chatted while she pushed the food around her plate.
‘Not hungry?’ Michael asked.
Jennifer told him that she had met Julia and had had so much cake it had ruined her appetite. After dinner he sat in front of the fire and called to her to join him. ‘Leave the washing-up,’ he said.
‘Michael Harrison, who do you think I am, leaving dishes in the sink?’ She laughed before plunging her hands into the hot water. Truth be told, she had left the dishes lots of times, and they sometimes washed up together later in the evening, but tonight Jennifer was putting off the planned conversation. Could she do it? Would he be hurt or angry? Well, there was only one way to find out. She was vigorously wiping the surfaces after putting all the dishes away when Michael laid his hand on her shoulder and she jumped. ‘Are you trying to frighten the life out of me?’ she said, with a false laugh.
Michael kissed her cheek, then took the cloth out of her hand and led her to the chair by the fire.
‘Jenny, are you going to tell me what all this is about?’
She flushed. Michael knew her better than she’d realised. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words.
‘Is it the baby again?’ Michael asked. ‘Tell me, Jenny, please. I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.’
When Jennifer looked at him, her eyes full of tears, Michael thought his heart would break. He too had felt the loss. Jennifer was right when she said nobody understood. He hadn’t told a soul how much pain he had felt when their baby was taken from them. But it was what their loss had done to Jennifer that hurt him most. ‘Nature’s way of saying something was wrong,’ people said. How in God’s name was that supposed to make you feel better? he thought angrily. It didn’t help in the least when people spouted their ridiculous sayings. It had been their child from day one. My poor Jenny.
Michael held out his arms. ‘Come on now,’ he said jokingly. ‘Surely it can’t be me, your handsome husband, you’re upset with? I mean, just look at what a catch I am,’ he said, spinning round.
Jennifer burst out laughing. ‘Idiot,’ she said, as Michael wrapped his arms round her.
They stood in each other’s arms, perfectly happy in the moment. Then Jennifer spoke quickly: ‘I want to go back to work,’ she said. She told him about the job at her old firm, then stepped back and waited.
Michael grabbed her hand. ‘Is that what this is all about? You want to go back to work? So what’s stopping you?’
Jennifer sighed. ‘Everyone. You work shifts. They said my job is to look after you, making sure I’m always here when you come home from work. I cook, clean and think about the baby morning, noon and night. I need more, Michael. I have to get out of here.’
Michael sat in the large armchair by the fire and pulled Jennifer onto his knee. They sat there enjoying the heat of the fire as Jennifer curled up on his knee. She loved it when Michael stroked her hair like he was doing now. She had said her piece, and now it was a waiting game. Michael liked to think things over. He stared into the fire, his arms around her.
He didn’t want Jennifer to return to work. He liked things just as they were. He wouldn’t want to come home to an empty house. But wasn’t that what his wife was having to put up with? A constantly empty house when he was at work. Especially with all the hours he had been working lately. He was being selfish. And who had the right to tell them how to run their lives? Well, whoever they were, they could tut and whisper all they liked. If his Jenny wanted to go back to work, they could run their complaints past him and he’d tell them straight. ‘I’ll make us some tea,’ Jennifer murmured.
‘Never mind tea.’ Michael lifted her off his lap, stood up and grabbed her round the waist. ‘Get the hard stuff out! We’re celebrating.’
‘We are?’ Jennifer said, and took out the sherry glasses.
‘They’d be fools not to take you on so here’s to your success,’ Michael said, and Jennifer threw her arms around his neck.
‘I’ll prepare all your meals,’ she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. ‘I’ll always have something ready for you before I leave for work and when you come in from the night shift. I can also –’
‘Whoa!’ Michael said. ‘I am capable of warming up food, you know. I think I can almost manage to switch the gas on and light the cooker.’ He hadn’t seen that sparkle in his wife’s eyes for months. If a job cheered her up, they’d make it work between them. She had got pregnant once. Maybe if she wasn’t thinking about it all the time she would again. This work thing could be just what she needed. If not, there were tests they could have. So far Jennifer hadn’t wanted to go down that route, terrified their failure might be her fault. There was adoption, of course – everyone knew about the babies that were being taken from single mothers. Michael shuddered. He couldn’t imagine how awful that must be for the girls and their little ones. They had talked about it once when they’d passed the local orphanage on Sandyford Road. ‘Poor lambs,’ Jennifer had said.
That night as Jennifer crawled into bed she had a grin on her face that wouldn’t go away away and an excitement in her heart that she hadn’t felt in a long time. I wonder where the puppy went, she thought. I do hope he’s all right. ‘Oh well, a new start,’ she whispered to herself before switching off the light.
The poor little lambs, as Jennifer had called them, were fast asleep, dreaming of running around in the garden with Oliver tomorrow. They were loved as well as cared for. Nancy had a heart that stretched in a million different ways with the capacity to love every single child in her care.
Only a mile separated the two homes and there was no way of knowing how their lives would soon be intertwined in the most incredible way. God worked in mysterious ways, Mother Superior was heard to say often. Indeed he does, and sometimes it was really rather wonderful indeed.
The Thingy
Finally, spring was on its way: crocuses and snowdrops were in bloom, and bluebells would soon fill the wood with colour. Winter already seemed long gone, and although it was not particularly warm, the sun was shining. The hammering in Mr Bell’s cottage had gone on for weeks now, and still nobody knew what it was about. Except Oliver, who was in on the secret.
It was 1 April, and when Billy came home from school he burst through the door and asked if he could take Oliver out. ‘Hello to you too,’ Nancy said, laughing. She was thinking how much the children had grown in the last few months. Billy had shot up and would be needing some new shorts soon. Oliver, too, was bigger, not to mention a source of constant fun. Nancy wondered what they would do without him. He was part of them now and the children loved him. They all did.
With spring in the air Nancy was happy, despite a little sadness. Josephine was still having regular physiotherapy but she wouldn’t walk. She loved to be in the garden with Oliver scampering around her and often got out of the chair to sit on the grass with him lying beside her. Somehow Nancy had to find a way to get through to her. The little girl’s reading, writing and arithmetic were excellent, and Nancy was a great teacher, but Josephine needed to be at school. They had talked about her mummy and daddy being in Heaven and the children had told her about the stars in the sky, yet still something was stopping her walking.
Josephine missed her parents so much and would for a long time to come. Nancy understood that. She had had a few difficult conversations with Josephine and had told her she couldn’t go to Heaven yet because God wasn’t ready for her. ‘Why did He take my mummy and daddy if He wasn’t ready for
me?’ Josephine had asked.
Why indeed? thought Nancy. Still, she told Josephine that she was getting much better and stronger every day. ‘What if I try to walk and it doesn’t work?’ she said, looking down at the callipers on her legs.
‘Well,’ Nancy said, standing her up, ‘there’s only one way to find out, darling. What do you think?’
Josephine had asked if she could try tomorrow, and Nancy had had to be content with that. Then there had been three days of solid rain, and the children had been confined to the playroom, watching Oliver in the grounds with Mr Bell.
Billy was taken over to see him every day, and was allowed to stay for an hour in the morning and another in the afternoon. Nancy ruffled his hair and said, ‘Don’t you get bored? Mr Bell isn’t exactly a chatterbox.’
‘He talks to me all the time,’ said Billy; ‘we talk about lots of things.’ Nancy could not have been more surprised.
Finally the weekend brought some dry weather and Nancy had two new helpers to give her a hand. ‘Take them outside, and let them play in the garden whilst I tackle the ironing,’ she said. Nancy had set the ironing board up in the playroom where she could hear the children and watch them playing out of the big window with the bars on.
There was no sweeter music to Nancy’s ears than listening to the children play. The hours whizzed by that afternoon and Nancy eventually bent down to switch off the iron. She wandered over to the window. She watched for a few minutes before realising something very strange, and pressed her nose up against the window. ‘Well I never,’ she said out loud, ‘I don’t believe it.’ Josephine’s chair was empty. Nancy’s heart jumped for joy. ‘Oh thank you, thank you Lord,’ she said, furiously looking around the garden to see where Josephine was. The children were all there, some playing with old tyres, others sitting around the huge oak tree and playing chasing games, yet still she couldn’t see Josephine. Nancy could see some of the children were playing mummies and daddies; it was one of their favourite games. The helpers had taken a big old pram out and the children were walking around the garden with it. All was exactly as it should be, but where was Josephine? Both helpers were in the garden so they couldn’t have taken her anywhere.
The Puppy and the Orphan Page 14