‘Is that in South Shields?’
‘Yes. The Mistress says I’m lucky apparently,’ she pulled a grim face, ‘cos’ the lady of the house doesn’t want a premium to employ us. I’m to use the money to kit meself out with work clothes.’
Sandra would be fifteen in two weeks; it was time for her to leave the orphanage. She had no relatives, apart from her younger brother, Alf, segregated in the boys’ department. It had never occurred to Esther to wonder where Sandra might live when she left Blakely.
‘And you don’t know who these people are you’ll be working for?’ Esther questioned.
Dorothy gave her sister an exasperated glare. ‘What’s your employer’s name?’ she asked their friend.
‘Mrs Kirton.’
‘That sounds a nice name to me.’
‘You think so?’ Sandra brightened.
‘Will you come back to visit us?’ Esther asked.
‘If I can.’ But Sandra didn’t look hopeful.
A thought struck Esther. She turned to her sister. ‘What if we’re not here? Mam might have been for us by then.’
Sandra rolled her eyes. ‘Has nobody told her yet?’
‘Told me what?’
A guilty expression crossed her sister’s face.
Before Esther could prompt Dorothy, a figure cast a shadow over them. ‘Girls,’ Miss Balfour said, sternly. ‘Time to go.’
‘Yes, Miss,’ they chanted in unison.
The moment passed, and Esther forgot the question she’d feared to ask.
On the day of Sandra’s departure, they were allowed to wait at the front door with Alf to say goodbye to their friend.
Sandra, swamped in a big black coat that reached down to her ankles, wore black stockings and lace-up shoes, and carried a small battered suitcase.
Esther noted the dread in her eyes.
‘So long, Alf, be good,’ Sandra gave her brother a half-hearted smile.
Ashen-faced, he mutinously kicked the linoleum floor with his foot.
Sandra regarded Dorothy. ‘Promise you’ll write.’
‘I will.’
No one hugged, as expressions of endearment were frowned upon at Blakely. Mistress Knowles, arms folded over voluptuous breasts, watched from afar to ensure decorum was met.
When it was Esther’s turn to say goodbye, Sandra gave a huge sniff. ‘She isn’t coming back… you know… your Mam. Better you find out now…’ Her gaze met Dorothy’s. ‘And it’s better it’s me that tells you.’
‘Time to move on,’ Mistress Knowles cut in. Stepping towards the door and opening it, she handed Sandra a sheet of notepaper. ‘The directions to your new address… here’s the fare.’ She shoved the coins into Sandra’s hand.
Sandra stepped into the sunshine. ‘Ta-ra,’ she said, a quiver in her voice. The door closed and she was gone.
It was all too reminiscent of Mam’s departure and the worry of it felt like butterflies fluttering inside Esther’s stomach.
A shocked silence followed, and all that could be heard was a wail from the babies’ department. Sandra’s brother stormed off along the passage, not looking back.
Esther rounded on her sister. ‘What did Sandra mean… Mam isn’t coming back?’
‘I won’t have you raise your voice, girl,’ the Mistress commanded.
Esther wouldn’t be silenced. ‘She is coming back. She promised me.’
For years, she’d held on to this hope. In her darkest days, it was the only thing that got her through.
‘Divvent be so ridiculous, twenty-six. You’re the property of Blakely. Your mother signed a contract to that effect years ago.’
Esther felt winded.
‘Tell her, Dorothy, it isn’t true.’
Dorothy’s green eyes were swathed in torment. ‘Oh, Esther… I should’ve told you long ago.’
As hope died, something shattered inside Esther and, inexplicably, she knew she wasn’t innocent any more.
Mistress Knowles drew herself up. ‘For your insolence, girl, you’ll miss dinner. And be thankful I’m in a lenient mood.’
‘I should’ve told you long ago, but, Esther, I couldn’t bear to see you hurt.’ Dorothy’s eyes clouded with anguish.
Supper over, the two sisters were sitting across the table from each other. Esther wasn’t listening – she was still puzzling over the question she’d been asking herself all day.
‘What’s a contract?’
‘An agreement.’
‘What did Mam agree to?’
Dorothy chewed a fingernail. ‘She signed a piece of paper that said Blakely was responsible for us till we’re fifteen. It’s the rule.’
Esther’s stomach lurched. ‘How do you know this?’
‘Sandra said Mam visited Blakely the week before she brought us here. The Mistress showed her around and then Mam signed the contract.’
‘How does Sandra know this?’
Dorothy gave a weak smile. ‘She listens through keyholes… remember?’
‘And Mam never said a word?’
Dorothy hesitated. ‘Actually, yes. She told me the night before, but she didn’t explain things properly. She told me she was ill and couldn’t manage and she was taking us to a special place and it was for the best. She said she’d been shown around and she was pleased we’d be fed and have a roof over our heads. She also told me to look out for you.’
Esther was stunned. ‘Why didn’t she let Aunt Olga look after us until she got better?’
‘I was only young, Esther, but I seem to remember Mam didn’t want us to go to Aunt Olga as she and her husband had the butcher’s shop to run.’
‘So, she dumped us here…’
As reality sank in, outrage sparked in Esther like a firecracker. Faced with the facts, she could deny the truth no longer. Mam wasn’t the angelic saint she’d worshipped all these years but a stranger – a selfish stranger who had only thought about herself.
‘I hate her,’ she cried.
‘Don’t say that.’
‘But I do.’
Dorothy stared at her sister with a look sad enough to break Esther’s heart. ‘She’s still our Mam.’
‘Why didn’t she visit us, then?’
‘Perhaps she was too ill.’
‘Too ill to write to us or send someone else to check on us?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Dorothy admitted, crestfallen.
‘I don’t care if she never comes back for us.’
‘Oh, Esther! You don’t mean that.’
‘Yes, I do.’ Tired of waiting for her mother, Esther’s heart hardened and she vowed never to trust anyone again. Except, of course, Dorothy.
‘When you’re fifteen,’ she asked, ‘will you be sent out to work like Sandra?’
Dorothy ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Where else could I go?’
It had been a long and trying day, and Esther couldn’t stay brave any longer. The thought of losing her sister was too much and unshed tears prickled her eyes.
‘Don’t get upset,’ Dorothy’s voice was unsteady. ‘It could be the best thing to happen.’ Her expression grew determined. ‘I’ve thought about it, Esther. I’ll find us a home so we’ll never be parted again.’
Esther voiced her biggest fear. ‘What if something happens and you’re unable to return for me?
‘I promise nothing will. You’re my girl, remember.’
4
November 1937
On the day Dorothy prepared to leave Blakely, sleet swirled down from a threatening grey sky.
Esther stood outside on the top step waiting for her sister.
Twelve now, Esther couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried, but she felt like it now, swallowing a lump in her throat.
‘Get back inside.’ Dorothy appeared on the step dressed in a coat meant for someone bigger, wearing black lace-up shoes, a woollen hat and mittens whose wool had shrunk tight in the wash. ‘You’ll catch your death. Just look at you… you’re soaked through.’
&nb
sp; Esther’s uniform was sodden. Droplets of rain streamed from her hair and down her face like huge tears.
Dorothy did what she did best and fussed over Esther, but both sisters knew this was only a ruse to hide their true feelings – the dread they both felt at being torn apart. These days, Mam was never mentioned and if Esther did think of her, it was with contempt. And when she found herself softening, feeling tempted to forgive her, she reminded herself of her mother’s betrayal and hardened her heart.
Dorothy was the one Esther loved and couldn’t bear to be separated from.
‘Have you got the directions to the house?’ she asked, anxiety bouncing around like a tennis ball in her stomach.
‘In my pocket… but guess what, Esther?’ Hope glimmered in Dorothy’s eyes. ‘The house is within walking distance from here. A place called Beach Road… behind the Town Hall. I’m to be a nursemaid, the Mistress says.’
Neither of the sisters knew the layout of their hometown, having spent most of their lives within the confines of Blakely, but the fact that Dorothy’s place of work was in the vicinity made Esther sag with relief.
‘Write as soon as you can,’ she begged.
The Mistress maintained that if the orphans were taught to read and write in class, it would make it easier for her to place them in employment.
But the sisters stared knowingly at each other. Since leaving, Sandra had only corresponded once and they’d never heard from her again. She had written to say that she was employed as a general servant by a solicitor and his wife.
Her letter had ended:
…If you think life gets any easier after Blakely then think again. From Cook to the Mistress and her three good-for-nothing daughters, I’m everyone’s skivvy. I’m fed reasonably well but that’s only so I keep up the strength to run after the lot of them.
I miss you terribly but don’t be surprised if I don’t write, as I never have any spare time.
Dorothy wrote to the address but she never received a reply. Sandra’s silence upset her and she wouldn’t discuss the matter even when Esther pestered her. Esther’s biggest fear was that the same thing might happen to Dorothy.
‘I’ll write the minute I can,’ Dorothy promised, shivering. Whether it was from cold or fright, Esther had no way of telling. ‘In three years it’ll be your turn. And I promise, Esther, I will find us a home. Can you stay brave until then?’
A memory came flooding back of Mam requesting the same thing – but this was Dorothy, Esther reminded herself, and she trusted her implicitly.
As snowflakes began falling rapidly between them, Esther nodded.
A week passed and life at the orphanage without Dorothy was devastating. It was as though half of Esther – the part that stayed sane, the best part that only Dorothy brought out – was missing. With her sister gone, Esther, lonely and insecure, would erupt into fits of temper.
‘My dear child, your recent behaviour won’t do,’ Miss Balfour reprimanded her one night as she readied to turn off the dormitory lights. ‘You’ll only suffer if Mistress Knowles finds out.’
Esther stood in her tent-like nightdress.
‘I hate the Mistress,’ she said.
‘Hate is a strong word. You must pray for guidance.’
Esther knew Miss Balfour meant well but she’d had her fill of religion, forced upon her at the orphanage for years.
‘When I leave Blakely I’m finished with prayers and church.’
‘You’re angry. You don’t mean that.’
‘Yes, I do. This doing-good business makes me laugh. My Grandfather was supposedly a vicar. Where was he when we needed help?’
Miss Balfour looked distressed. ‘My dear, life won’t always be a struggle. One day happiness will come your way.’
Esther refrained from saying that she didn’t believe in fairy tales any more.
‘Meanwhile…’ a smile transformed Miss Balfour’s face. She lifted a letter from her uniform pocket and handed it to Esther. ‘This might make you feel better.’
Esther recognised Dorothy’s loopy handwriting on the envelope. ‘Oh! Thank you,’ she said, grinning.
Miss Balfour went on. ‘The Mistress said I was to give you the letter only if your behaviour improved.’ A glint of amusement twinkled in her eye. ‘I told the Mistress your conduct of late has been exemplary.’ She moved to leave the room. ‘Ten minutes more,’ she smiled, ‘before I switch off the lights.’
With something tangible in her hand to link her with her sister, the doubts in Esther’s mind melted away. Legs crossed, head bent, she sat on the bed in the half-light, devouring Dorothy’s words.
I’m writing this from my own room up in the attic. Imagine! I’m lonely though, and miss all the whisperings from the other girls. Across the landing is a girl called Alice, who is a year older than me and she’s the house servant. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
When I left you, I followed the directions to Beach Road. The roads terrified me, as did all the people. I kept huddled to the wall like a frightened mouse.
Eventually, I found the house and it’s grand, Esther. My employer is a doctor and his name is Brooke. His surgery is down some steps at the front of the house in a basement room. The Brookes have two toddlers, both girls, and cute kiddies – though Celia, the oldest, can be bossy at times.
Esther, I can’t take everything in, there’s so much. But the main thing is the family I work for are nice people and for that I’m grateful. I miss you dreadfully, though. I don’t know when I’ll get to see you. I understand I get a half-day off, but nobody has told me when.
I say a little prayer each night so that God will keep you safe.
Your devoted sister,
Dorothy
Esther carefully placed the letter under her pillow. Laying back on the hard mattress, a smile played on her lips. Dorothy was safe and well. Esther would have thanked God if she hadn’t fallen out with him.
5
October 1938
It was the orphan boys who heard the rumblings of war first. The Master allowed the older boys in the department to read his newspapers and so they had more of an idea what went on in the outside world beyond Blakely.
The rule forbade the boys and girls from communicating with each other but notes were passed in communal classrooms about all manner of things.
Dorothy didn’t believe in the war rumours. She said Doctor Brooke trusted Mr Chamberlain – and therefore so did she. The prime minister had said in his speech after the Munich International Conference, ‘peace for our time,’ and that was enough to assure them.
Esther experienced a stab of jealousy that her sister was so close to the Brookes. She knew she shouldn’t be so possessive but she couldn’t help herself as Dorothy was all the family she had.
Dorothy’s afternoon off was on a Wednesday, when she was allowed to visit Esther for an hour after dinner in the garden where her sister worked. For Mistress Knowles had refused to allow Esther, a senior girl now, to be a ‘mother’ to one of the little ones, like Sandra had looked after Dorothy.
‘Esther Makepeace is a bad example,’ she had announced one day at breakfast in the dining hall. ‘She will help in the gardens where she can do nee harm.’
Esther enjoyed working in the open air and she was quick to learn from Benson, the gardener. She dug trenches, planted tiny seeds and watched as, miraculously, they grew into healthy vegetables; carrots, turnips, leeks and rows of green, leafy potatoes brightening her days. Flowers remained her greatest love, and she liked nothing better than to tend cuttings in the sunny and snug greenhouse. In summer, when the borders became an explosion of bright pinks, purples and oranges, she welled up at the beauty of it all.
It occurred to her that good things do happen sometimes. And Esther allowed her suspicious mind to relax for once.
The following May, on a blistering hot Wednesday afternoon, the sisters sat in the long grass beneath the shade of a sycamore tree. Dorothy, resting her head on the boundary wall, watched a
bright blue butterfly flutter overhead. ‘All the talk on the wireless and in the newspapers,’ she said, ‘speculates about war. It’s quite alarming, Esther.’
Dorothy had been away from Blakely for about a year and a half now and considered herself to be Esther’s eyes and ears to the outside world. She didn’t tell Esther the more perturbing aspects of what was going on – the rumours rife in the town – that if war did break out there’d be thousands of casualties from aerial attacks and unruly mobs would descend on the country. In this disordered world, goodness knew what might happen but as the oldest, she’d keep her promise to Mam and protect Esther.
Thoughts of her father unexpectedly surfaced in Dorothy’s mind. Just a young man when the Great War started, how had he coped? Had he been nervous he’d be called up or eager to do battle for his country? Whatever his thoughts, their father had travelled with countless of other brave boys to a foreign country to engage in a merciless war. The injuries he received there meant that he had been an invalid for the rest of his short life.
Sadness enveloping Dorothy, she wondered what their lives would have been like if their father had lived.
As the butterfly fluttered away, Dorothy realised she felt secure for the first time since Mam left them, and was loath to leave her safe haven with the Brookes. But there would not be a place for Esther there too when the time came for her to leave Blakely, as she had promised her sister they would live together. Dorothy would never go back on her word and she vowed to find the sisters a home. Yet how she was going to accomplish such a feat, Dorothy had no idea and the responsibility weighed heavily upon her.
Esther was sitting cross-legged in the grass making a daisy chain. She looked up. ‘Miss Balfour says she’s optimistic and refuses to consider the possibility of war. And I must say, I’m going to follow her example and stay positive.’
Dorothy smiled affectionately. Even though she was thin, there was robustness about Esther and her dogged spirit helped her survive the tribulations of Blakely. Dorothy was glad, hoping life would be good to her sister – and, perhaps, then the mistrust would vanish from her hazel eyes.
The Orphan Sisters: An Utterly Heartbreaking and Gripping World War 2 Historical Novel Page 3
