Forgotten Children

by Cathy Sharp

  ‘Mum, why can’t you see what’s under your nose? There are children in London close to starving …’

  ‘Well, I’m sure they needn’t be if their parents stopped drinking and went to work. You’ve changed since you married, Angela, and I don’t like it. Why can’t you be as you were before the war?’

  ‘Because it changed everything … including me, Mum.’

  ‘I suppose you’re still grieving over John. Surely, it’s time to move on, my dear? I’m only thinking of your happiness.’

  ‘I know but I’m happy doing what I’m doing, and I have no intention of remarrying for a while.’

  ‘You can’t still be grieving after all this time?’

  ‘I loved him very much, Mum. I shall never forget but, yes, I can think of John without breaking down now. However, I’m not ready to move on – and I certainly don’t want to get married.’

  ‘Well, I don’t understand you, and I think you’re a fool. Anyone can see that Mark … but you won’t listen to me. I may not approve of what you do, Angela, but I hope you know I would help if you needed me.’

  ‘You’ve been wonderful.’ Angela kissed her cheek and caught the smell of strong alcohol, a smell she’d never associated with her mother. She must have taken a stiff whiskey to keep up her strength for the evening. ‘A real brick … but you’re looking tired. I hope all this wasn’t too much – it hasn’t knackered you?’

  ‘Really, Angela. Language, my dear! I hope you are not learning bad ways at that orphanage of yours.’

  Angela stared at her and then started to giggle. Her mother looked bewildered but she just shook her head, unable to find the words. She’d spent all this time working to make this evening a success for the children of St Saviour’s but that didn’t mean she approved of them.

  ‘Why are you laughing? For heaven’s sake, Angela, I cannot understand you.’

  ‘Nothing,’ Angela told her, seeing the flicker of annoyance in her eyes. Her mother would never accept why she did what she did and that made her sad, but she would try to ignore her barbs and keep the peace between them, for her father’s sake if not her own. ‘I’m just happy, that’s all. And I do appreciate you, Mum, even if we don’t understand each other all the time.’

  ‘I have enjoyed this weekend,’ Mark said as they left the splendid but very ancient inn where they had enjoyed a wonderful lunch of fresh salmon in a delicious sauce, salads and tiny sautéed potatoes. ‘I can’t recall when I’ve felt so relaxed and free of care.’

  ‘It has been fun,’ Angela agreed. ‘Mother outdid herself last evening, and this was a lovely idea, Mark. Much nicer and easier for me than dragging that heavy suitcase on the train.’

  ‘Is all that stuff for the church jumble sale?’

  ‘It’s a “bring and buy” sale, I’ll have you know,’ she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘An upmarket jumble sale I’ll grant you, but I scrounged some good things from my mother’s friends as well as my own bits and pieces. Some of it is old-fashioned but the cloth is good and can be remodelled – and there was so much stuff in Mother’s wardrobe that she will never wear. I don’t know where it came from, because most of it isn’t her style at all and I’m not even sure it would fit her. I asked if she could spare anything and she said take what I want so I did – but nothing she really likes, of course.’

  ‘Well, you certainly deserve success,’ Mark said approvingly. ‘You’ve worked very hard, Angela, and justified my faith in you.’

  ‘I’m so grateful to you,’ she said as she slid into the front passenger seat. ‘I am finding this work very rewarding.’

  He stood looking down at her before closing the door. ‘And how do you feel in yourself? Not just putting on a brave face, I hope?’

  ‘No, I’m getting there little by little,’ she replied, the smile leaving her eyes. ‘I still think of John most days but it is becoming easier. Now I can remember the lovely times – the happiness we shared for such a short time.’

  ‘It would never have been long enough, Angela. When you love someone you carry that with you for the rest of your life.’

  ‘Is that how you felt when your wife died?’

  ‘I felt and still feel mostly guilt.’ There was a sombre look in his eyes. ‘I didn’t love her as I should and I neglected her when she needed me most – and so I blame myself for her death.’

  ‘I’m sure it wasn’t your fault, Mark. You’re a busy man and …’

  ‘Don’t make excuses for me. I should have known how she felt about the death of our child – but I chose to throw myself into my work.’

  ‘We can all find reasons to blame ourselves.’

  ‘Not you, Angela. You adored John and he knew it.’

  ‘Yes, that is true – but we quarrelled on his last leave. I told him he was too controlling, because he objected to me wanting to join the Wrens. I told him I wanted to carry on working for the hospital after the war and he didn’t agree. We made it up before he went back, but it has stayed with me and I’ve regretted it so bitterly … for a long time I wondered if he felt I’d regretted our marriage; if he was careless because of it …’ She choked back a sob. ‘So stupid of me. It was just a little quarrel and he forgave me but … I cannot forgive myself. I spoiled a day of our time together by insisting on my own way when I should have been making the most of every second.’

  ‘Yes, I do see how that would feel,’ Mark said. ‘Believe me, John wouldn’t have harboured a grudge; he wouldn’t have thought badly of you. He probably blamed himself, because it was old-fashioned of him to expect you to give up the work you enjoyed, and there could have been no harm in your carrying on – at least until you started a family. Personally, I think it does married women no harm to work outside the home if they wish, but I know that not many men agree with me. When the children come it is different, of course.’

  ‘Unfortunately, that never happened. Besides, why should that stop women having a career? As long as there is love and the children are cared for properly – why should a woman not go on with her career? Why shouldn’t the man help with childcare – or is that too outrageous even for you, Mark?’ Angela looked at him provocatively and he gave a shout of laughter.

  ‘Well, that is something I’d never thought about, Angela. It’s a bold idea and I’m not saying it’s wrong, but I should like time to consider before making my plea, your honour.’

  She looked at him in amusement. ‘Did I get on my soapbox? I do that sometimes when I feel something strongly, I’m afraid.’

  Mark was silent for a moment, then, ‘Would you like children of your own?’

  ‘Perhaps but I’m not ready to think of marriage yet, Mark.’

  ‘I know, but one day you may want a family – and I’m sure your father would enjoy grandchildren.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps.’ Angela acknowledged in her heart that he was right. Yet how could she think of a domestic life without John? To contemplate having children with another man was a terrible betrayal of their love. ‘We must hope that both of us find love again, Mark.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, but there was an odd look in his eyes as he turned away and inserted the key, starting the engine without looking at her. ‘I hope we shall both be fortunate one day …’

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Angela was thoughtful as she locked away the takings from the sale of second-hand clothes that morning. She’d raised more than seventy pounds, and sold every last thing she’d collected, because it was all good quality and people were so fed up with finding nothing worth having in the shops. The Utility fashions that had been imposed during the war had been universally hated and all Angela’s things had been stylish, even if most of them were pre-war. Some women had suggested that she have sales on a regular basis and someone else had proposed a shop where women could bring the things they were tired of and swap them. Angela wasn’t sure what the Board would think of that, but because there had been so much interest she’d raised a decent sum for the home.

  It
would take a lot of thinking about, Angela decided as she left her office that evening. She wasn’t sure that it would be worthwhile to devote so much time to such a venture – but she wouldn’t dismiss it out of hand just yet. There were all sorts of possibilities for raising funds in the future.

  ‘Oh, Angela, I’m glad I’ve caught you,’ Nan said as she was heading towards the stairs. ‘I’m sure you’re longing to get back and have a nice bath and a cup of tea. It’s just that a couple of the children have gone down with nasty coughs and colds today, and I’m rather shorthanded. The sick children are feeling very poorly and I wondered if you would make them some hot cocoa and take up to the ward? I know you’ve been on your feet all day, but the kitchen staff have left for the night and Sister Beatrice has gone to the convent to speak to her superior about something this afternoon and may not be back until late …’

  ‘Yes, of course. I shall be only too pleased.’ Angela smiled at her, happy that she’d been asked to stay on and help. She was so busy with other things that she didn’t get as much time as she would like to spend with the children. She thought about what Mark had said, about having a family of her own, and realised that it was probably something she wanted one day – if she hadn’t left it too late.

  Tears stung the back of her throat, because she would have liked to have John’s children, but that could never happen now … and she wasn’t sure that she would ever be able to give her heart again.

  Sometimes she thought that perhaps she could love Mark; he understood her more than anyone else did – perhaps more than John had. A smile touched her mouth as she thought of the look in his eyes when she’d thrown that outrageous idea at him. She wasn’t sure where it had come from; she wouldn’t have said it once upon a time – but what was wrong with a man sharing the care of his children?

  Poor Mark had looked shell-shocked, but he’d soon rallied. She thought that of all the men she’d ever met, she probably had more chance of a decent life with him than any of the others. He might not always agree, but at least he would give her views a fair hearing.

  Still smiling at the thought, Angela went off to carry out Nan’s request. She’d almost forgotten about Sister Beatrice, though it had struck her as odd that the nun had gone back to her convent. Surely she wasn’t thinking of giving up her position here?

  Beatrice had been kneeling on the cold stone floor for more than an hour and she felt the stiffness strike through her as she stood and genuflected before the large cross on the altar. For a moment her fingers touched the large silver crucifix on its heavy chain at her breast; it had belonged to her mother, and the Abbess had granted her permission to keep the symbol of her faith when it had been willed to her. The feel of the raised figure beneath her fingers gave her comfort and for a moment she permitted herself a smile. She’d asked the saints to intercede for her and gradually the peace of the old convent had come back to her, easing the anxiety that had been building inside for some weeks.

  She had never considered herself as being either cruel or unkind, but Angela’s reaction to her caning that young lad Billy Baggins had made her question herself. Billy had run away rather than come to her with whatever was troubling him and perhaps that was because she’d been too much the stern guardian and not enough the kind protector she was meant to be.

  Perhaps Angela was right about corporal punishment, even the mild form that she had applied in the case of young Billy. Her own life had been hard, perhaps because of her pride and the same kind of defiance she’d seen in that boy’s eyes. Had she learned to control her pride sooner maybe so much pain would have been saved … but that memory belonged to the distant past and she refused to let it torment her.

  She worried about Billy being on the streets for several days and nights, perhaps alone, perhaps with that rogue of a brother of his, as Angela had suggested. In either case he would be in danger and she would feel responsible if anything happened to him.

  As she left the chapel the Abbess approached her with a comforting smile.

  ‘I trust that your time in prayer has helped you, Sister Beatrice?’

  ‘Thank you, Reverend Mother,’ Beatrice replied. ‘I fear that I am still guilty of that sin of which you warned me so many times as a young woman.’

  ‘Yes, you were always proud and independent, Sister Beatrice. I remember that you found the vow of humility the most difficult to take.’ A gentle smile touched her lip and then she sighed. ‘With myself I fear it was gluttony that caused me trouble. I did like my food, but I have curbed the need for sweet things – and in time you too will find peace of mind. We all carry a little sin with us,’ the kind elderly nun said and made the sign of the cross over her. ‘Go in peace, my sister. I shall pray for your soul – and you are always welcome to return to your home whenever you wish.’

  ‘As always, I find strength in coming here and speaking with you as well as in prayer,’ Beatrice said. ‘When you first took me in I was consumed with bitterness and hate, Reverend Mother. Through your gentleness and love, I found a way to forgive those that had hurt me so grievously. I have never regretted my decision to give myself to the service of God – but I do fear that I fail to achieve the humility expected of my calling. I sometimes think I am simply not worthy …’

  ‘The Lord gives us strength, my dear. I am but His servant, but I am happy if He chose me as His vessel to reach you. I pray that you have found peace here today.’

  Beatrice thanked her and left. She’d needed a short time to reflect and pray, to ask for forgiveness and the strength to do God’s work – but she knew that her life was not here amongst these quiet cloisters. She belonged at St Saviour’s, where the children needed her.

  As she walked away to catch her bus back to Spitalfields, her thoughts were still with Billy Baggins. Where was he – and was he safe? She had prayed for him to return to them and she could only trust that her prayers had been heard.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Mary Ellen couldn’t sleep. It had happened as she was walking home from school that afternoon. Billy had darted out at her as she passed a narrow alley, tugging her into it so that no one else would see them.

  ‘Billy!’ she’d cried. ‘Oh, Billy, are you all right?’

  ‘No, I bloody ain’t,’ he said and looked over his shoulder. ‘Arfur is a bully and I hate him, but I have to do what he says or he’ll kill me.’

  ‘Oh, Billy, you mustn’t swear!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve been so worried about you.’

  ‘I have to do what Arthur says. If I don’t, he’ll come after you – and he’s threatened to set fire to St Saviour’s. I don’t want that to happen, Mary Ellen.’

  ‘I miss you something awful …’

  ‘I miss you as well. I wish I could be back with you at St Saviour’s, but I’m frightened of him. Me only chance is if the police catch him when he’s doing a job.’

  ‘Does he break into all sorts of places?’

  Billy nodded. ‘Him and his mate did the tool factory and got away with some money. They thought it would be all the wages for the week, but they got it wrong. Thing is, Arthur and Jack need to get away ’cos they broke into a lawyer’s office the other week and stole a lot of stuff from a safe. Now they’re in big trouble, because the stuff belonged to some dangerous men, and now they’re scared.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Have you heard of Butcher Lee and his gang?’

  ‘No, I don’t know who they are.’

  ‘They’re gangsters, see, and they’re mean. Arfur wanted to make a break for it as soon as he realised what they’d done but Jack Shaw said they can’t sell the stuff in London so they need cash before they can clear off up North …’

  ‘Will your brother make you go with them?’

  ‘I’m going to sneak off as soon as I can,’ Billy said. ‘I reckon Butcher will put the word out on them, and they won’t dare to come back for years.’

  ‘Come home with me now, Billy. Sister will be all right if you tell her the truth, a
nd Miss Angela is on our side.’

  ‘He needs me to keep watch when they do the boot factory office tonight,’ Billy said. ‘If I run off he will come after me and then he’ll set you all on fire in your beds – that’s what he says.’

  ‘But you could be in danger …’

  ‘I ain’t goin’ to let him hurt you again,’ Billy had said. ‘Don’t you worry, Mary Ellen. I’ll get away somehow and then I’ll come back to the home.’

  Billy had assured her that he would be all right, but now Mary Ellen kept thinking about him all the time. She was frightened of what was going to happen and it all kept going round and round in her mind.

  If only Billy had come with her for tea, but he was terrified of his brother and what he might do to them all. Mary Ellen didn’t know what she’d do if Billy didn’t come back. Rose hadn’t been to see her for ages and she’d had nothing from her mother other than a joint card for her birthday soon after she arrived at the home. Tears slipped down her cheeks, because she felt so alone at times, and she needed her best friend here, because Billy loved her like family and she loved him.

  Billy stood shivering in the dark, hugging his arms about him and constantly moving his feet to keep them from losing all feeling. It was a bitterly cold night and he could hardly stop his teeth chattering; he hadn’t eaten all day and his stomach rumbled with hunger. His left eye ached where Arthur had hit him the previous day for defying him and he wished with all his heart that he were back at St Saviour’s in his bed with a good big breakfast of bread and jam to look forward to in the morning. The most Arthur ever gave him was a pie and chips and that was only when he was pleased about something.

  Billy hated being forced to help him by keeping watch while Arthur and his mate Jack were inside the houses or small grocery shops. In the houses they took gold, old coins, medals and money but nothing bigger, because it was too much trouble to sell. Jack’s father was a pawnbroker and he bought any gold, medals or bits of silver and jewellery they took for him, fencing them through his shop or through other men who sold them away from the area. The money was split between Arthur and Jack; Billy was given nothing except his food, and he didn’t want anything else, because it was dirty money. So far he hadn’t been forced to go into a house through a small window and let them in, because Jack didn’t trust him, and they’d simply smashed their way through windows or doors.