Orphans of War

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Orphans of War Page 16

by Leah Fleming


  ‘I’ve come to collect you both. Don’t worry, I’ve seen Mrs Belfield. She says it’s OK…Where’s our Sid?’

  ‘Over there with his mate. He walked past you out of the boys’ yard…in the cut-off trousers and balaclava. He won’t know you.’ The words came out as if this was everyday and normal, not this strange dream like a scene out of a film.

  This wasn’t right that Mam should just turn up at dinnertime after they’d not seen her for years and years. ‘What’re you doing here now?’

  ‘I told you, I’ve come to take you home. Go and fetch the lad, there’s a duck. I didn’t recognise him. He’s all legs.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Gloria hesitated, unsure. Was this really happening to her? Was she, Mam, here after all these years, older, smarter, with crimson lips and painted eyes?

  ‘I’ll explain on the way to the station. Go and get your brother. We’ve got to rush if we’re to get the half-past twelve to Leeds.’

  ‘But we’ve got to get our things.’ Gloria was panicking now.

  ‘They’re going to send them on by train. Hurry up, love.’

  Gloria ran ahead and stopped Sid in his tracks. ‘You’re to come with me. You’ll never guess who’s turned up…’

  Sid looked up and then at the woman waving. ‘Who’s she?’

  ‘It’s our mam and she’s come to collect us.’ Sid took one look and ran after Alan, unimpressed. Gloria had to drag him back. ‘It’s rude to run off. You’ve got to speak to her. She’s come a long way to see us.’

  ‘Why?’ He looked the woman up and down as if she was a stranger.

  ‘Don’t you know your own mam? My, how you’ve grown too,’ Mam whispered.

  ‘You’d better shout. He’s a bit deaf in that ear. He has to keep it covered,’ Gloria said. So much had happened to them since Mam put them on that train. Sid was deaf and she had periods. They were country kids now.

  Sid held back from the woman’s hugging, rigid like cardboard. ‘I told you he doesn’t know you.’

  ‘Course he does. He’s the spitten of…I can’t believe how big he’s got.’

  ‘What’s she wanting?’ Sid said.

  ‘That’s no way to talk to your mother,’ Marge snapped.

  She was not getting the rapturous welcome she’d expected, Gloria noticed. Served her bloody well right.

  ‘Most mothers don’t dump their kids on a train to fend for themselves…with not even a postcard to say where you were.’ There it was said.

  ‘I didn’t know where you was and I have been searching. I thought I was doing the best for you both. It broke my heart to do it.’

  ‘Well, you know where we are now. Why’ve you really come? If you think we’re ever going back to Elijah Street…I know what went on there.’ Gloria blushed at the thought of that time. She’d been such an innocent. Well, now she knew different. Enid had seen to that with all that name calling.

  ‘No you don’t, lady. Things is different now, I promise. I’m doing well for myself. Just follow me and I’ll explain everything. Aren’t you pleased I’ve come for you? A little late, perhaps but better than never,’ Mam smiled. She smelled of roses and spice.

  Gloria had to admit her mother was dressed in style and looked pretty. ‘What took you so long?’

  ‘We got blitzed in a raid and I joined up and then, well, I’ve got a little surprise. He’s called Mikey and he’s nearly two. Me and his dad are going to get wed as soon as he gets permission, but I call myself Mrs Delgado. He’s a Yank so when the war’s over we’re all going to America, you two an’ all. Won’t that be exciting?’

  Gloria had to admit that that was a turn-up but she tried not to show it. ‘Does the Yank know about us?’

  ‘Sort of…but it’ll be fine. There’ll be plenty of room where we’re going. Arizona’s near Hollywood. Just think of it–living among film stars. Sometimes I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. Mike’s so handsome…look, here’s his picture!’

  She shoved a cracked snap of a man in uniform with bushy dark hair and a moustache, black eyes and fierce eyebrows. He looked like one of the baddies in a Western but his smile showed straight teeth.

  ‘He looks old,’ Gloria sniffed. ‘What does he do?’

  ‘He’s in charge of a supply depot in Derbyshire. He drives a big truck and he can get us anything: sweets, fresh meat, tinned butter. I met him at a dance straight off the troopship. Come along or we’ll miss that train.’

  What were they to do? No one was there to see them off. It was not like Mrs Belfield not to wave them away–or was she just glad to see the back of them? In her heart, Gloria had always worried that the Belfields thought she was too common a friend for Maddy.

  Sid wouldn’t budge though. ‘I’m hungry,’ he said. ‘Ma Batty’ll have the soup on…’

  ‘Then your real mam’ll get you summat at the train station. Don’t fuss.’ Their mother was looking around them, not wanting to make a scene.

  ‘We have to say goodbye to the Battys and Maddy.’ Gloria was torn now. It was a surprise to see her real mother. How she’d longed for this moment, but it was all being rushed. On the one hand she was glad to see the back of school, but on the other all her treasures and Christmas gifts were in the cupboard at Huntsman’s Cottage. What if they forgot to send them on?

  Mrs Plum had taught them to say please and thank you and it was rude just to go away without saying goodbye. On the other hand, to be going to America on a ship, to play real cowboys and Indians in Hollywood was exciting. The other vaccies would be green with envy. She could send them long letters and show off her new life. She had a little brother she’d never seen and Mam was happy, anyone could see that. If it was all sorted with Mrs Plum then it must be all right.

  ‘Come on, Sid, you’d better come with us. I’m not going without you. Would you like to ride a horse and be a cowboy?’

  ‘I want to be a farmer,’ Sid sniffled. He’d got another of his colds coming.

  ‘There’ll be plenty of farms where we’re going, young man. Home on the range for you. Hold my hand, quick, and let’s skedaddle or we’ll miss that train.’

  Gloria took one last look across Sowerthwaite, the lush green up to the high hills. It was a fresh morning, blue sky and green fields dotted with white sheep. One thing was quite clear: they were doing the right thing. No one was bothered if they stayed or went. Better to leave now than to be chucked out later. They’d all be sorry when she was sunning it in the sunshine, but she would write to Maddy and explain.

  Maddy was in school far away. She would be sad for her going. There wasn’t even time to leave a note in the Victory Tree HQ, in their secret cubbyhole. Maddy would miss her and that made her feel better.

  Maddy was busy with her French homework, huddled by the firelight in the drawing room among the snoring relatives, when there was a kerfuffle at the side entrance. Mr and Mrs Batty were standing in the doorway looking worried.

  ‘Is young Mrs Belfield at home?’ said Mr Batty, turning his cap round in circles.

  ‘I’ll go and get her,’ Maddy replied, jumping up, glad to close her books. She raced up the stairs, two at a time, but Aunt Plum had heard the bell and her dogs bounded down alongside her, knocking past everyone in their path.

  ‘What is it, Hilda?’ she said. ‘Down, Blaze!’

  ‘Are Sid and Gloria still at the hostel?’ Mr Batty asked.

  ‘No, they should be with you…it’s late.’

  ‘They didn’t come home for their dinner. I’d made shepherd’s pie, special. I thought they’d been kept in but by four o’clock, not a sign of them…so I reheated it for tea. I thought the blighters had gone to Alan’s farm again but Gloria should’ve been home for her chores.’

  ‘Maddy, do you know anything about this?’ All eyes turned on her and she was conscious of her patched eye. She shook her head. ‘They must be at the hostel with Grace. Gloria sometimes helps out there.’

  ‘I’ll run down and check,’ said Plum, grabbing her jack
et.

  ‘I’m coming,’ Maddy said, not waiting for a reply. They piled into the old Morris, rushed down the dark drive and out onto the lane into Sowerthwaite.

  At the hostel Grace Battersby was busy with the mending basket, turning collars on shirts and sewing on buttons. She looked up in surprise at the deputation on her doorstep.

  ‘Are the Conleys here?’ asked Plum.

  ‘Gracious me, no…Not seen sight nor sound of them all day. Everyone’s getting ready for bed and cocoa. Why?’

  ‘Oh hell’s bells! We’re going to have to call the police. They really are missing. Were they in school?’

  Grace shouted down John and Perry, the twins who were in Sid’s class. They appeared in their pyjamas, red-cheeked, with grins.

  ‘Was Sid in school today?’ asked Plum.

  ‘He were in this morning but not this affey…I saw him with the lady in the funny hat. Gloria was with him. They went for a walk, I think down town.’

  ‘Oh goodness, that woman’s gone and got them when I distinctly told her not to.’ Plum went pale and sat down. ‘How could I have been so stupid?’

  ‘What woman? Not yon flighty piece that came this morning, who turned her nose up at my coffee?’ said Grace. ‘Was she not Welfare?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not. I’ve been such a fool. She was their mother, Margery Conley She spun me some tale about being married to an American soldier, but did give me a name and number. I told her to come back to visit on Sunday but she went straight to school and picked them up…after four years silence. How could she? Poor Sid won’t know her from Adam! Oh, I should have warned them at school. I never thought…What a mess! How could I have been so stupid? She said she was off to America and wanted to give the children a new life out there. I bet that was a pack of lies too. Stupid! Stupid me!’

  Maddy had never seen Plum so upset. ‘But they never said goodbye!’ she cried. ‘They’ve no clothes or anything, have they?’

  ‘Everything is where it was this morning,’ Plum replied. ‘I can’t believe they’d run off just like that without a word.’

  ‘But I suppose it’s just history repeating itself, dumping them without any clothes or provisions. I did see their birth certificates. There was no mistaking she was Gloria’s mother, all right. I’ll just have to call the police. She can’t just snatch them.’

  ‘Gloria wouldn’t go if she didn’t want to,’ said Maddy, trying to make things better, but Aunt Plum looked frightful.

  ‘That’s true. She can be a stubborn little madam but she’s easily led, and Sid wouldn’t go without her. I suppose they must have hoped Margery would come for them one day but not like this, not without a single goodbye to her friends,’ Plum sighed.

  ‘She’ll let me know where she is. I know she will, Aunt Plum. Their mummy wouldn’t harm them, would she?’

  ‘Of course not, darling, but I don’t trust her. All this talk about going to Hollywood–Gloria’s silly enough to believe it all.’

  ‘There’s nothing to be done until morning. That billeting officer will know what to do. It was him that brought her to our door. It’s over to them now, I reckon,’ said Mrs Battersby.

  ‘How can I have been so trusting, so gullible? Any good sob story and I’m a sucker…after all these years in this job. When something seems too good to be true, it usually is. Come on, Maddy, home. We’d better drop off at the Battys and give them the bad news too.’

  Maddy sat in the car in silence. After all this time, the woman who’d thrust the Conleys into her care had turned up and whisked her friend away to America. The lucky devil! She still had a secret dream that one day her own parents would turn up at the end of the war as if they’d never been away: a great comfort to imagine on nights when the gales howled and she couldn’t sleep.

  It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t it have been her turn too?

  It was time to go, time to sign up and get out of Sowerthwaite, thought Greg as he marched up and down the square with the Home Guard, on parade for the last time, his long legs marching in time to the Silver Band. He felt daft playing at soldiers when the real war was hotting up. He’d never stayed anywhere as long as he had in the hostel but he wanted a change of sky.

  It wasn’t as if he didn’t like his job with Brigg’s Garage but there was no future there for him, not with all those sons to carry on the business. The hostel wasn’t the same now that the old crowd had gone, and Maddy was busy with schoolbooks and a new horse called Monty. Any road, he was too big to be playing with schoolgirls. Greg was restless for adventure. It was time to get himself down to the barracks to sign on. He wanted to see other places than Yorkshire.

  ‘We shall miss you, Gregory. Mr Batty will miss you, always keeping the car ready when it was needed for an ambulance.’ Mrs Plum had shaken his hand when he’d gone to tell her he was leaving. There were tears in her eyes. ‘I always knew you’d make good. You’ll do well in the army, but promise to write to us. I’m sure Maddy will want to keep in touch too. If you’re ever passing through you know there’ll be a welcome at Brooklyn. Here…’ She’d shoved some notes into his hand. ‘Just a little thank you. Send us your address and we can make up parcels.’

  ‘You shouldn’t, miss,’ he’d croaked, wanting to hug her but sensing he mustn’t. Ladies like her didn’t do such things.

  Funny how this was the only place he’d ever been treated fair. Looking around him for the last time, he saw the old stone house with windows glinting in the spring sunshine, the tall avenue of trees on the long driveway and the daffs waving him off in the breeze. The days were pulling out, the sky was bright and the sheep were full of lambs. It was the nearest thing he’d ever had to a home. Not a bad place for a billet but it was time to move on.

  Where he was going there’d be brick huts and concrete, barbed wire and guard houses. God only knew after that. What if he never came back?

  Don’t look back, he thought, trying to stride out with confidence and wink at the girls on the pavements ogling the lads. There’d be plenty of them when he got his uniform and his stripes.

  He’d always hold Sowerthwaite dear in his heart. It was what they were fighting for, country towns and villages like this that were safe and wouldn’t change, but who would he be when he returned? One thing was certain: when he came back to Brooklyn again it would be with his tail up. No one would ever look down on this vaccy ever again.

  It had been a rotten day at Palgrave House School, three wet playtimes, lots of prep to do and Kay Brocklehurst on her back again. Why was there always one girl and her gang who took pleasure in sly digs at Maddy’s squint, her lack of bosoms and her being top in French and Latin again?

  Sometimes she hated her form so much that it made her sick to sit at her desk. They were all so cliquey and she looked different, so no one bothered with her except Elsie Fletcher, who was very plump. It was just the same at playtime and home time, jostling and shoving down the steps to the gate and the long trek to the train.

  She’d no special friend since Gloria had left and she felt the loss. There were the occasional letters but not much news from Leeds. Now all the girls were giggling and ogling the grammar school boys, slouching in their cocked caps and gaberdine macs, everyone trying to look grown up and sophisticated in school uniforms. What a laugh! How could anyone look grown up wearing black stockings and a gymslip with a wide-brimmed hat in bottle-green felt? She felt like a sack of potatoes. Maddy tried to ignore the pushing but in her rush to get away through the gate she accidentally nudged Pamela Brownlaw, Kay’s best friend.

  ‘Here, you! Mind your manners, Maddy Isaiah,’ shouted Kay. ‘You cross-eyed stick insect, get out of our way!’

  ‘I have as much right to the pavement as you,’ she snapped back. ‘And I’m not Maddy Isaiah.’

  ‘Oh yes you are…one eye’s higher than the other. Get it?’

  Maddy tried not to let them see her distress. She was sick of these jokes at her expense so she put her nose in the air and ignored them.
>
  ‘Who’d ever want to look at her twice? You’re a freak,’ Kay shouted as they spilled out onto the pavement.

  A smart young soldier was standing on the pavement eyeing the girls coming out of school. Kay stopped and looked him up and down. ‘What you staring at, Private? Looking for a girlfriend?’ She nudged her friends. ‘He’s a bit of all right, don’t you think?’

  The young man stared down at her with a sneer. ‘I’m not into cradle snatching, especially a foul-mouthed bitch like you…Hi, Maddy.’

  Maddy stopped and turned, seeing Greg resplendent in his new khaki uniform.

  ‘Oh, you’ve got leave at last! It’s been ages…’ He looked so grown up, tall and sophisticated.

  ‘Just got a twenty-four-hour pass, so I thought I’d call and see everyone before I’m on my way back to York. I took a chance you’d still be here. Are this lot bothering you?’ he asked.

  ‘No more than usual but you get used to it, it doesn’t matter,’ she lied.

  ‘Well, let’s give them something to think about then,’ he grinned. ‘I’ve borrowed a car–no, honest, the owner knows I’ve got it–so hop in and I’ll drive you back home.’ The cluster of girls stared with amazement as he grabbed her arm and shot across the street to a little open-top roadster.

  ‘Where did you get this? How on earth did you get petrol?’ It was dark green with a belt round its engine bonnet, a real Morgan.

  ‘A mate in the garage…I did a favour and sorted out his engine. Come on, I’ll take you for a spin and let’s give them an eyeful. Pretend you’re my girl,’ he laughed, kissing her on the cheek.

  ‘I’ll get a million detentions for this, if Miss Buswell sees me,’ Maddy blushed, but enjoyed it just the same. Greg revved the engine up and they did a two-point turn in the road, leaving Kay Brocklehurst and her gang staring in disbelief.

  That should shut her up for a week or two if I can be mysterious, Maddy smiled to herself. She waved back at them, holding on to her hat for dear life. ‘Thanks,’ she shouted into the wind. He’d made her feel grown up and not just a frumpy little schoolgirl. He was her friend for life now after such an act of kindness in this cold world. ‘You can drop me off at the station, if you like.’

 

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