The Puppy and the Orphan

by Suzanne Lambert

  Mother knew there was no point in arguing with Nancy. She wished her well and said if there was anything further she needed to let her know. ‘A peaceful Christmas for once would be nice, Mother, you know, one with no calamities, dramas and catastrophes. That would be much appreciated.’

  Mother took Nancy’s hand. ‘The Lord sends us these challenges, Nancy, and we must face them bravely.’

  ‘Yes,’ Nancy said, with a flash of anger in her eyes, ‘and that’s all very well, but when you pop into the chapel for prayers tonight, is there any chance you could ask Him to spread these challenges out over the year, Mother, and not save them all for Christmas? Just a thought.’

  Mother’s heart was warmed. Nancy was such a wonderful soul, and she herself often wondered at the challenges she’d had to face. ‘We will have a Mass for Mr Bell tomorrow,’ was all she said.

  ‘That will be lovely, Mother,’ Nancy said, smiling now. She loved Mother very much.

  After Mother Superior had left, Dolly and Nancy stared at each other.

  ‘Nancy?’

  ‘Yes, Dolly?’

  ‘You’re not really going to stay here, are you?’

  ‘Not on your life. We’ll give it five minutes. Gather the basket and blankets.’

  Oliver was warned not to bark, and they crept out of the cottage and through the woods, then made a run for the garden door. They hurried up the stairs, terrified they would be caught. Never had Nancy looked so guilty. In Nancy’s room, they settled Oliver, and Dolly went back to her own bedroom.

  For the next ten minutes, Oliver sat like a very good boy, listening to all the house rules. He whimpered and settled down. He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of this at all but then Nancy told him again what a clever boy he had been and he wagged his tail happily. Nancy cleared up her tea things then looked once more at her holy pictures and shook her head. ‘Not even talking to you tonight,’ she said and switched off the light.

  Downstairs, Mother Superior had been standing at the window for some time. Her rosary beads were clicking between her fingers and a smile was tickling the corners of her mouth. She knew quite well that Nancy would never have stayed in the caretaker’s cottage, and the sight of her and Dolly creeping out of the wood had amused her, despite the seriousness of the occasion.

  She turned away from the window and made the sign of the cross. ‘Oh well, Lord,’ she said, ‘what I pretend not to see is my business.’ She made her way to chapel.

  Pretty Blue Ribbons

  Nancy was hoping they would hear from the hospital soon. Mother had promised to let her know as soon as she heard anything. Nancy had not slept at all well, Heavens that puppy could snore. More than once Oliver had got up and walked over to stand by Nancy’s bed. ‘Not a chance,’ she told him pointing to his basket and his head would droop as he made his way back to it. He tried curling up and looking at Nancy with his big puppy dog eyes. ‘No good looking at me like that,’ she told him. ‘It doesn’t work.’ Oliver whimpered and Nancy turned over in bed, closed her eyes and waited for sleep. And waited and waited. This is ridiculous, she thought, turning over in bed, then shrieking. Oliver was standing right beside her. ‘Goodness me, you’re going to give me a heart attack,’ she told him. ‘Back in your basket and no barking.’ Oliver did as he was told and Nancy had to laugh. She got up and walked over to him and knelt beside him. ‘Fancy a midnight snack?’ she asked.

  Oliver barked and wagged his tail. Nancy made her away along to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and get some biscuits for Oliver. She couldn’t sleep anyway; she was worrying about Mr Bell. Fancy not knowing your birthday, she thought. It upset her a great deal. What had he said? ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Well, it mattered to Nancy. Whether he liked fuss or not, when he came home Mr Bell was going to have a birthday party, no matter when his actual birthday was. She would ask Cook to bake a cake. One of her very special cakes. Cook loved being asked to bake something special. Of course, Nancy would have to listen to the speech about rationing and how nobody would tell Cook what she could or couldn’t have. Honestly, nobody ever knew how Cook managed to work her wonders with food rationing, and although rationing had ended five months before, Cook still liked to complain and no one was brave enough to challenge her.

  By mid morning Nancy was feeling the effects of having been up half the night. It normally didn’t bother her. There had been many nights when she had sat up with a sick child or spent the dark hours wiping tears. She decided that a good run-around outside would do them all the world of good. Oliver had been taken to Mr Bell’s cottage this morning and given his breakfast, then told to be a good boy and wait for someone to come back for his walk. She and the children went first to the cottage to collect the dog, then played in the grounds with him for a couple of hours. By then Nancy was feeling revived by the fresh air.

  Sister Mary Joseph had just arrived to take the children in for lunch when Nancy saw someone approaching Mr Bell’s cottage. Who’s that? she wondered, and went across to introduce herself.

  ‘I’m Norah,’ the lady replied, staring at Oliver with disapproval.

  ‘Norah?’ Nancy queried.

  ‘James’s sister.’

  Nancy was still puzzled.

  ‘I’ve come to collect some belongings for my brother,’ she said, and walked past Nancy into the cottage.

  I didn’t know he had a sister, thought Nancy, and followed the lady into the cottage. ‘Behave now, Oliver, no jumping up,’ she whispered to him, ‘I have a feeling she wouldn’t like it. ‘Any news?’ she asked.

  ‘Not much at the moment,’ Norah replied. ‘I’ve just come to get the things he needs. Would you like to help me?’

  ‘Of course, I would love to help,’ Nancy said, smiling.

  Oliver ran to the fireplace and stared at it, then at Nancy, as if to say, ‘No roaring coal fire, what’s going on here?’ They all shivered. It was cold in the cottage, which had an air of loneliness and emptiness. ‘Would you like tea, Nancy?’ Norah asked.

  ‘Marvellous idea,’ she replied. ‘I’m going to see if I can get this fire going, keep the place warm.’

  Norah and Nancy sat at either side of the fireplace and enjoyed a good strong cup of tea in a comfortable silence, as the fire crackled and warmed them. Norah Bell was not one to talk about her private affairs; it simply wasn’t done. Life was easier, she thought, when you put up a wall and kept people out. She never knew what made her do it but somehow, sitting here, looking at the lady opposite with the bluest eyes she had ever seen, she felt something she had not felt in many years. There was a kindness and understanding in her that made Norah feel a warmth inside that had nothing to do with the cup of tea in her hand. It wasn’t only children who felt Nancy’s magic.

  Nancy was looking at the photograph of the young child on the mantelpiece and Norah’s eyes stung with tears that had been held back for more years than she could remember. ‘May I ask who the child is, Norah?’ Nancy said.

  Norah stared at the photograph for some time. ‘She was so pretty, a sweet little girl, a joy to her parents and the whole family. Times were tough in 1916. I was twenty and James was twenty-seven. Our father had died when we were both young children and it was my job to help at home. We had little family, so when James got married it was a wonderful occasion. Mother and I loved Hilda, and even before they married she was very much part of the family. When their child, Margaret, came along we all felt as though the whole family had been blessed. It may have been a huge struggle but it was one we would all face together.’

  ‘Oh, Norah,’ Nancy said, leaning forward. ‘I didn’t even know he was married, let alone had a child. What happened?’

  Norah stared into the fire for a few moments before she could continue. ‘Hilda and James lived with Mother and me, so we watched Margaret grow into a little girl. Mother and I used to fret about Hilda, Margaret and James moving out. The thought of not having them with us was so painful. I wish now that they had lived anywhere else. Mother and I were out
the day the house was shelled. When we heard the noise we prayed with all our hearts for them to have been saved but it wasn’t to be. One moment they were here and the next they were gone. The worst thing, Nancy, the very worst: it was Margaret’s birthday, and we had gone out to buy her some handkerchiefs with little flowers on. We had saved and saved all year, and we knew she would love them. We had even managed to buy some blue ribbons for her hair. Blue was her favourite colour.

  ‘It didn’t matter then how little money you had. You could beg, steal and borrow, as Mother used to say. James could make anything out of nothing. You could give him a piece of wood and he would look at it then suddenly there would be something rather wonderful in front of you. If it needed fixing he could fix it, if it needed making he could make it. Before he went away to war he had been hammering and sawing in the back lane for weeks, shooing us away if we dared to look. Margaret had wanted a doll’s pram but, no matter how hard we saved, there would never have been enough money for that. When he showed us what he had made, Mother cried. It was a box on legs with wheels at the ends and an old pram handle. He had painted it and written Margaret’s name on the side. Oh, Nancy, Margaret would have loved it. When I see children now with their dolls and prams it still hurts.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Nancy said. ‘I never knew any of this.’

  Norah shivered.

  ‘Would you like more tea?’ Nancy asked, but Norah shook her head and continued to talk. She seemed unable to stop now that she had started.

  ‘She died on her fifth birthday and the little lamb never saw her pretty handkerchiefs or the blue ribbons, and the pram was destroyed in the blast.’ Norah’s tears were silent as they trickled down her cheeks to land on her coat.’

  Oliver whimpered and looked at Nancy. Her face was dry but the pain in her eyes was clear to see as she continued to stare at the photograph of little Margaret, who never got to wear her pretty blue ribbons.

  ‘James never forgave himself. He was convinced if he had been there they wouldn’t have died. “I put King and country before my own family,” he used to say. He was broken when he came home and wanted to die. Mother and I should have helped him but our grief was so heavy that we, too, struggled to get through each day. I don’t know how we managed to carry on. Day by day the war raged and we didn’t care a jot. It was like we were all frozen inside. When it was over and everyone was celebrating, we all sat around our kitchen table drinking tea. We were imagining what we would be doing if Hilda and Margaret had been there too. Somehow we had to put this family back together again, start caring about each other, if we were to survive. Each one of us had almost turned in upon themselves in their own grief.

  ‘Then, suddenly, Mother died and James was so angry. “Why couldn’t it have been me?” he said.

  ‘ “Not your time, our James,” I told him, but he was ever so angry, Nancy. He smoked and drank like he was trying to destroy his body and I hadn’t a clue how to help him. To be honest, I was a bit angry myself. He wasn’t the only one who loved Hilda and little Margaret. We were all suffering. “My fault, my fault,” he would mutter in his sleep.’

  ‘How did he end up here?’ Nancy asked.

  ‘Well,’ replied Norah, ‘he had odd jobs but we were struggling more than ever before. People rallied round and helped but I was just at the point of feeling like giving up myself when James came home and said he had a job. I was thrilled until he said he was leaving home. It was a caretaker’s job at this orphanage. I couldn’t have been more surprised because he was going to be surrounded by children. Up till then he would turn his head away when he saw parents and children together, yet here he was taking a job surrounded by little ones. He promised he would look after me and send me money every month and that was it; he never was a man of many words. The morning he left, I couldn’t stop crying. I had gone from living in a house full of laughter and love to living by myself. I have never felt so lonely in my life. James and I weren’t ones for displays of emotion but I felt like hugging him the morning he left. He was my brother and I loved him. I had watched him suffering yet that morning he seemed to be at peace somehow. I was about to close the door when he came back and kissed my cheek. “I’ve got to make up for it, you see,” he said. “Help the little children that have nobody. I didn’t help my Margaret but I will do anything in my power to help these little ones.” And with that he was gone. In all these years, Nancy, he never forgave himself, but doing what he could here helped him enormously, I know it did.’

  Norah coughed. ‘Listen to me, blethering on endlessly,’ she said. ‘I’ll just get his few things together and I’ll be off back to the hospital with them.’

  Nancy wasn’t sure her legs would allow her to stand, she seemed to be stuck to the chair. Pull yourself together, woman, she thought as she managed to get up out of the chair and walk to the kitchen to clear up.

  About half an hour later Norah called that she would be leaving now. Her manner had changed. It was as though their chat around the fireplace had never happened. Truth be told, Norah Bell was embarrassed and hoped Nancy wouldn’t be going around telling everyone her business. Whatever was I thinking, she thought. I do not want everyone thinking I’m soft. She straightened her back and added, ‘I’ll be back tomorrow to make sure the place is spick and span.’

  Nancy opened her mouth to speak and closed it again. What an infernal cheek, she thought. There was a sudden coldness in the room.

  Norah said she would let Mother Superior know of any change in her brother’s condition and left.

  Moments later, Nancy ran up the driveway after her, Oliver at her heels. ‘Norah, wait!’ She was out of breath when she caught up with Norah at the gate.

  ‘Whatever is it?’ Norah asked.

  ‘His birthday! When is your brother’s birthday? I want to do something special. Please tell me.’

  ‘He’s refused to celebrate his birthday since that dreadful day.’

  ‘Tell me anyway. Please, Norah.’ Nancy waited. Her eyes were pleading and she whispered, ‘Please tell me, Norah.’

  ‘Very well. My brother will be sixty-six on Christmas Eve,’ she said, then turned abruptly and walked away.

  In the quiet cottage, Nancy stood staring once more at the photograph on the mantelpiece. It was then the tears finally began to fall and she closed her eyes and swayed slightly. Oliver immediately ran to her side and jumped up. I’m here for you, he was saying, let me help you. Nancy opened her eyes and smiled at him. ‘Good boy you are,’ she said. Nancy knelt in front of the fire and Oliver placed his head on her lap.

  James Bell. Nancy hadn’t known his story. She had never taken the time to find out and that had been so wrong of her. They should all have made an effort to find out. Did Mother Superior know? Mr Bell had nothing to feel guilty about. Nancy lifted down the photograph of Margaret and, as she did so, something else fluttered down. ‘Oh!’ she cried. ‘Oh my.’ Stuck to the back of the photograph was a silver star, like the ones the children had made at Christmas. Billy must have given it to him and told him about the stars in the sky.

  There was something else. It was a small piece of paper, folded. Nancy opened it, her fingers shaking. Immediately she recognised it. Josephine had drawn it and told her it was Mummy and Daddy in Heaven, waiting for her. Over the last year since Oliver’s arrival, the children had spent lots of time with Mr Bell, which had never happened before. Mr Bell had been almost reclusive, doing his fixing and mending in the cottage unless something in the house needed fixing. This year, Nancy had seen him spend much more time out of the cottage, in the grounds with the children, and he had even been smiling. He had been extremely embarrassed when Nancy caught him. ‘We are allowed to smile here you know,’ she said, laughing.

  Nancy picked Oliver up and hugged him. ‘Seems God sent you after all, boy. Do you know what you have done, little one? You have healed an old man’s broken heart and helped him to smile. In thirty-eight years not another living soul has managed to put the joy into h
is heart as you have done. Then to cap it all, it looks like you saved his life. You helped little Billy to feel like he had a friend who understood like no one else did and you gave him his voice back. Then there’s Josephine. Who knows if she would have walked if it hadn’t been for you? It wasn’t just the “thingy” that did it, Oliver. It was you. You made her want to walk.’ Nancy’s tears dropped onto Oliver’s fur and he didn’t mind at all. ‘Oh, Oliver, I do love you,’ she said.

  Oliver leapt up at those words and began licking Nancy’s face, forgetting he wasn’t allowed to. Then he barked happily. I love you too, he was saying.

  That night, Nancy crept through the woods to collect Oliver and took him back to her room. He jumped into his basket and enjoyed the treats she had left in it for him. Nancy looked out of the window and realised how she missed the usual sight of smoke billowing from the cottage chimney.

  She walked over to her holy pictures and made the sign of the cross. There was no noise or movement in the room except for the slight movement of Nancy’s lips as she said her prayers. Oliver watched Nancy as she walked over to put the night light on. This is when she gets into bed, he thought, and began to settle down. His ears pricked up and his tail began wagging as she walked towards him. No, surely not? He had licked her face today and not got told off, but there were more surprises to come.

  ‘Come on, boy,’ Nancy said. Oliver didn’t need telling twice and almost leapt into her arms. ‘Heavens, you almost knocked me over,’ she said, laughing.

  Oliver could hardly believe it. Was he going to be allowed to sleep at the bottom of Nancy’s bed? How wonderful that would be. His tail was wagging furiously. Oliver looked at the bed, then at Nancy, then back to the bed.

  Nancy was mortified. ‘Absolutely not, young man,’ she said, ruffling his fur, ‘but you can lie beside me all right.’ Nancy moved his basket right next to her bed and as Oliver settled down for the night, Nancy’s hand dangled over the bed stroking him.