Forgotten Children

by Cathy Sharp

  It was in Angela’s mind to look for Mary Ellen. She tried the isolation ward first, thinking the girl might be with Billy, but he was sound asleep, having been dosed with medicine for his sore throat and aching limbs, and Nurse Michelle said she hadn’t seen the girl since first thing that morning when she’d come to ask if her friend was any better.

  ‘I told her not to come in, because we don’t want her catching it and being ill for Christmas.’

  ‘No,’ Angela agreed and walked away, feeling anxious.

  Mary Ellen wasn’t in the schoolroom, which was quiet and abandoned. She went up to the dorms but Mary Ellen wasn’t there either and the fear built inside her. Could she have gone up to the attics to hide? Surely she couldn’t get in now, because Sister Beatrice had the key safe in her desk, but she ought to look.

  Mary Ellen was sitting on the back stairs, her shoulders hunched and her head bent. Angela knew she was crying and in that moment her anger became a fiery flame that roared in her head. She knew she was going to burn her boats and defy Sister Beatrice when the child raised her head and she saw the tears trickling on her cheeks, and the utter grief in her eyes. It must seem to Mary Ellen that they were all against her and that she had nothing to look forward to. All the letters for the children came first to Angela’s office and she passed them on to Nan, who gave them to the children after first making sure there was nothing upsetting in them. She knew that Mary Ellen had not received so much as a postcard from her sister for some weeks. Either Rose must be exceptionally busy or there was another reason for the lack of communication of any kind. Angela couldn’t understand her, because surely she could have walked here once every week or so, after she left the London hospital in the evenings.

  The child had so little to look forward to anyway: her mother in a sanatorium, her sister too busy to visit often, her best friend lying sick in his bed – and all the other children off to the pantomime. It just wasn’t fair or right and Angela wouldn’t put up with it.

  ‘Here, wipe your face,’ she said and handed Mary Ellen a clean handkerchief. ‘And then you can put your coat on. I’m taking you out.’

  ‘To the pantomime?’ Mary Ellen’s face lit up like a candle.

  ‘No, I cannot disobey Sister’s instructions; she forbade us to take you there – but I can take you somewhere else.’ She held out her hand, holding the child’s gently in her own. ‘Tell me, Mary Ellen, have you ever been to the cinema?’

  ‘No, miss. That’s where they have the pictures, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, and there’s a Walt Disney cartoon programme today. If we hurry, we shall just be there in time for the start …’

  For Angela her abiding memory of that Christmas period would always be Mary Ellen’s face as they took their seats in the darkened cinema and the screen suddenly lit up. For a start there was a short cartoon of Mickey Mouse followed by Donald Duck, and then an interval, during which Angela bought them both an ice cream in a little tub with a wooden spoon, from the girl who came round with her tray. Then the lights dimmed again and the big feature began.

  Disney’s film about the young fawn losing its mother had come out in the war years and was so popular that it did the rounds of the cinema every few months, especially on school holidays and Christmas. Of course Mary Ellen had never seen it. She’d once seen cartoons reflected on a white screen at her local church hall, but that was nothing compared to this, and her face throughout was a picture of wonder and delight. She shed a few tears at Bambi’s plight but in the end she was smiling and happy, sitting absolutely still and staring at the screen until the last credits had finished.

  ‘Did you enjoy that?’ Angela asked, even though she knew the answer.

  Mary Ellen nodded, too bewitched by all she’d seen to speak, and it was not until they were eating their tea at Lyons that the excitement came bubbling out of her and she kept asking Angela if she seen Thumper show Bambi how to do this or that … and then, all of a sudden, she went silent.

  ‘Thank you for bringing me, miss,’ she said. ‘It was wonderful. I wish Billy had seen it too, but I shall tell him all about it when he feels better.’

  ‘I’m sorry you didn’t get to the pantomime.’

  ‘I liked this even better,’ Mary Ellen assured her. ‘Nothing could be as lovely as Bambi, miss. I shall never ever forget it.’

  Angela had to agree with her. Seeing it through the eyes of a child had made her realise what a lovely film it was, and she knew she would never forget this afternoon – even if it meant she had to leave St Saviour’s.

  ‘I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Perhaps we might go another day to see something else, not yet … but one day.’

  She couldn’t promise anything definite, because her time at the home might be over soon enough. If Sister Beatrice was as angry as she had every right to be, Angela might be forced to resign.

  Angela told Mary Ellen to join the other children in the schoolroom before supper. Seeing her run off happily, she felt content and well rewarded for what she’d done, even though she knew that her next interview with Sister Beatrice might be very unpleasant. She went up to her office and removed her outer coat, sitting down at her desk and taking a list from her desk drawer.

  She was running her finger down the items when the door opened abruptly and Sister Beatrice walked in. The look on her face was grim and Angela knew at once that the Warden had discovered what she’d done – and she was furious. Rising to her feet, Angela prepared to meet the onslaught she knew must be coming.

  ‘You’re angry,’ she said.

  ‘I believe I have every right to be angry.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps,’ Angela agreed. ‘I didn’t override your instructions – but I didn’t see why I shouldn’t take the child out myself.’

  ‘No one is permitted to take the children out unless I am aware of it. Surely you know the rules? I have been looking for her. I was afraid she had run away.’

  ‘No, Mary Ellen wouldn’t do that. She was sitting on the back stairs crying when I found her. I took her to a Disney film and then to Lyons for tea. Please do not punish Mary Ellen. I am the one who broke the rules, not her.’

  ‘I am well aware of that. I dare say you think I am cruel and stubborn, making stupid rules and expecting them to be obeyed? This is a home for disturbed children, Mrs Morton, and it has to have rules. If one child is allowed to get away with flouting them, they will all think they can do the same. I had to make an example of her whether I liked it or not. Had you any sense of loyalty to me, you would have understood that and, had you asked, I would have allowed you to take her to the cinema another day. To take her out on the very day I had punished her was to show everyone that you think I am a crass fool who gives out punishments for the pleasure of it …’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I just couldn’t bear to see her in such distress.’

  ‘Do you imagine I enjoy punishing her? She is a taking little thing – and that friend of hers is a cheeky devil but I mean him no harm. I am not an ogre, and I do understand how children suffer. Good grief, I’ve seen enough of it. Being denied a trip to the pantomime is nothing compared to the beatings many children receive … but you are so certain you know best, aren’t you?’

  Sister Beatrice was almost shouting, but she broke off and turned away, her back towards Angela, shoulders heaving and clearly in distress.

  Angela blinked, stunned by Sister’s sudden outburst. For a moment she was silent, then, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise how it would seem. I thought only of the child’s disappointment. I knew I was wrong, and if you want me to resign, I shall do so when it is convenient to the Board.’

  ‘I think one of us may have to go. I leave it to your conscience to decide which of us it should be.’

  ‘Obviously it has to be me. I’d like to see the setting up of the new wing finished …’

  ‘We shall carry on as usual until after Christmas. You must send your resignation letter to the Board; they asked you to take up the
position against my better judgement …’

  Angela stared at the door as Sister went out and closed it. A swathe of bitter regret went through her. Perhaps if she’d tried a little harder to understand the older woman … but it might not have made a difference. Sister Beatrice hadn’t wanted her here.

  It was going to wrench the heart out of her to leave. She’d been feeling so empty when she came here, the space in her heart where John had been open and ready for invasion. Mary Ellen and, to a lesser extent, Billy, had crept in and she had wanted to make the girl happy, to fill her own life with the things that might have been hers had John lived. Because she would have welcomed children; a career was nothing beside the joy that a child could bring.

  Now she would have to make a new life for herself, start over again. Angela didn’t think she wanted to go home to her parents’ house. The first thing was probably to find herself an apartment and then, when she was settled, she could look for a new job; something working with children who needed her.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Michelle was thoughtful as she joined the others in the canteen that day. She’d started her monthlies that morning and was feeling a bit under the weather, but she’d taken an Aspro and she thought the ache was easing a bit. Munching her share of fish pie, she worried at the problem that had been nagging at her for a while. Something was wrong with Alice, and she was afraid she might know what it was, because Alice’s cousin Eric had met her after work the previous evening and suggested going for a drink.

  ‘I’ve heard a rumour about Alice and I want to talk it over with you.’

  ‘Did Alice tell you why Jack Shaw left London in a hurry?’ Eric had asked over their first drink and Michelle shook her head, ‘It was because Butcher Lee put a contract out on him.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’ Michelle had asked.

  ‘Because Butcher reckoned he must be betraying them. The word is that Jack was selling up stuff and they thought he was getting ready to leave – and he knows too much about them. They can’t afford to let him get away, because his evidence would hang them.’

  ‘Alice hasn’t looked very happy lately. I’ve tried asking her out, but she’s always busy. I think she’s avoiding me.’ Michelle had hesitated, because she’d noticed little things, like how pasty she looked in the mornings, and a certain look that pregnant women had in their eyes. ‘I’m not sure so don’t get angry but I think she might be in trouble …’

  ‘If that bugger’s done the dirty on her …’ Eric had scowled. ‘Butcher Lee won’t be the only one after his blood.’

  ‘Some people think he was the man found dead at that factory fire.’

  ‘Nah, not him,’ Eric said. ‘There’s another way out of that office and I reckon he went down the fire escape at the back while everyone was watching the front. Jack Shaw is too cunning to get trapped like that; he would have cased the building before he decided to rob it … that’s if he was even there and, despite the speculation in the papers, no one knows that for certain yet.’ He scowled. ‘He won’t get away so easily if I catch up with him.’

  Michelle had looked at him intently. ‘You’re very fond of Alice, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, suppose I am. Alice has a rotten home life, but she’s always been a good friend. She was the only one who understood when me Da died …’

  Michelle hadn’t asked him what he meant, because she didn’t want to become involved with him. Eric was all right for the occasional drink or a trip to the local dance hall, but she didn’t want to get too close – to him or any other man.

  Oh, well, this wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Alice would confide in her if she wanted to and in the meantime Michelle had a job to do.

  When she returned to the sick ward after she’d eaten it was to find that Marion had left to join the other children who were going to the pantomime.

  Checking on Johnny, Michelle could see little change. He was still pale and quiet, but he wasn’t running a temperature and there was no reason to think he was any worse. Perhaps she’d imagined that look in his eyes, a look she’d seen in other patients who were close to the end. She bent over him and touched his face gently.

  ‘How do you feel, love?’

  ‘I feel tired, miss, that’s all,’ he said wanly.

  ‘I’ll get you a nice warm drink,’ she said, because she knew there was little else she could do for him.

  After she’d made Johnny as comfortable as possible, Michelle felt her stomach ache returning and took another Aspro with a cup of tea.

  Michelle popped next door into the isolation ward to look at Billy Baggins. One of the new carers was with him and had just given him a warm milky drink and some biscuits. He grinned at Michelle as she entered, obviously on the mend and no worse for his adventure. She reflected that he had his interview with Sister Beatrice to come and wondered what would happen. Would he be sent somewhere else? He had caused a lot of trouble by running off like that, but if he’d been frightened of what his brother might do … well, surely that was a consideration, wasn’t it?

  Michelle felt it would be a shame if he were sent away from his friends, and was glad that she didn’t have to decide things like that, but she wouldn’t have dreamed of questioning Sister Beatrice’s right to make those decisions.

  With nothing much else to do, she wrote up her report and then made herself a cup of tea and some more drinks for the children. One of the kitchen girls brought up a tray of sandwiches and cake a little later, and Michelle helped the children decide what they wanted. Billy asked for a sausage roll. Johnny didn’t want anything, though she persuaded him to have a ham sandwich, because ham was such a treat, but he took one bite and kept chewing it round for ages before swallowing it.

  ‘Couldn’t you eat any more, love?’ she asked, looking at the lovely food he’d left. Ham had been one of his favourites, and it worried her that he hadn’t eaten it.

  ‘I can’t chew it enough, miss. I’m sorry …’

  ‘It’s all right, Johnny. It doesn’t matter.’

  She thought she might ask for some jelly and ice cream or a blancmange for him for his supper. Perhaps that would slip down easily and tempt him to eat something.

  Marion arrived about half an hour later, having had her tea downstairs, and Johnny bombarded her with questions. Michelle turned as Mary returned from her afternoon off.

  ‘Johnny is no worse,’ she told her in a low voice, ‘but I’m going to see Sister before I leave just in case. Keep an eye on him but don’t fuss. He does not have a temperature so he may be fine; it was just a feeling I had, that’s all.’

  Leaving the ward for the day, Michelle walked towards the Sister’s office. If she still wasn’t here, she would put a note on her desk.

  However, she was invited to enter as soon as she knocked. Sister was frowning but her face lightened as she saw Michelle and she listened attentively while the nurse told her what was on her mind.

  ‘I know what you mean about that look in the eyes. I’ve seen it for a while now,’ Sister Beatrice said. ‘Do not worry, Staff Nurse Michelle. I shall be here all night and I will keep an eye on him. Go home now and enjoy your night off. I think you are free until Monday morning?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right, Sister. I just wanted to be sure you were aware of a change in him.’

  ‘That was very conscientious of you. Thank you.’

  Michelle left her office, feeling as if a weight had been removed from her shoulders. Some of the staff – Angela in particular – thought Sister harsh, but Michelle admired her. Sister had a lot of responsibility and knew what she was doing. Now Michelle could stop fretting over Johnny for the time being, rather than worrying that Nurse Mary might not be able to cope if the child needed help during the night …

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Alice was more than three weeks late now and Mavis had been giving her suspicious looks recently. Sharing a bed, as they did, it was impossible to keep secrets from one another; Mavis knew if she had a headache and sh
e certainly knew when Alice was suffering from the dreadful stomach cramps that the curse caused her each month.

  ‘You’re not on duty this Sunday, are you?’ Mavis asked when she crawled into bed beside her sister that Saturday evening.

  ‘No. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I want to buy a new outfit. I’ve been invited to a wedding; Ted’s elder sister is getting married and he’s asked me to go with him …’ Mavis hesitated, then, ‘Besides, we need to talk, Alice, and we can’t do it here – too many ears listening.’

  Alice felt her stomach catch, because Mavis had guessed something was wrong. She’d probably noticed that Alice had been sick in the mornings and she was bound to have spotted that she hadn’t had her period for a while. Her sister could be stubborn and when she got hold of something she would worry at it like a terrier at a rat. She was going to get Alice’s secret out of her one way or the other – but perhaps it was what she needed, someone to tell her story to before it was too late. Mavis might tell her she was a fool, but she would be on her side, and she might be able to think of something to help her – which was more than her parents would do once the truth came out.

  ‘All right, thanks,’ she whispered. ‘We’ll go down the lane tomorrow, Mave. I need some new shoes for work and I got some decent ones there last time.’

  ‘Go to sleep then – the brats are all ears.’ Mavis nudged her sister and then said loudly, ‘Anyone telling tales to Ma will be boiled in oil and skinned alive.’

  ‘You’d be dead if you was boiled in oil,’ Saul called out cheekily.

  ‘And if I tell Ma that you’ve been skipping off school to go down the Docks and hang about with Bertie and his mates, she’ll whack you until you bleed.’

  A chuckle issued from the other side of the curtain as the brothers whispered beneath the bed covers. ‘We ain’t snitches, Mave.’

  ‘Go to sleep then, ’cos I ain’t either.’