The Little Runaways

by Cathy Sharp

  Going out into the morning air, she discovered it was colder again, a light dusting of snow on the ground, and she pulled her coat collar up around her throat. The weather had been bitter ever since the turn of the year, the coldest winter Nan could recall, and the snow had caused endless problems in many parts of the country. It was never quite as bad in London, because the traffic soon cleared much of the slush and ice away, but they’d had another power cut the previous evening. Nan was fortunate to have the stove, which kept her warm. She’d bought in a good store of coke and coal before Christmas, but she knew that some people were running short, especially those who could only afford to buy in small amounts. The last thing Nan wanted was to get ill again. She’d had a touch of flu late last year and she didn’t want another chill just yet.

  Her bus was drawing up as she reached the stop and the conductor gave her a cheery smile as she climbed on board and found her seat. He was usually on the run to her stop just outside St Saviour’s and it was like meeting a friend every morning.

  ‘Usual fare, love?’ he asked, churning his machine without waiting for her answer and handing her the ticket. ‘Bit nippy out, ain’t it?’

  ‘Yes, very cold,’ Nan said, smiling at the understatement. ‘How is your wife getting on, Ned? Still got that nasty cough?’

  ‘She’s about the same, but she won’t go to the doctor’s,’ he said and winked. ‘Says a drop of brandy will set her straight and mebbe she’s right.’

  He moved off down the bus as it drew into the next stop and a man in a grey coat and black trilby got on. He was carrying a newspaper, some worn leather gloves, and a brown paper parcel tied up with string; he dropped the parcel as he reached the seat where Nan was sitting. The conductor retrieved it for him and he struggled to tip his hat to Nan, dropping his paper on the seat in the process. She moved along to give him room.

  ‘All right if I sit here, ma’am?’ She thought his accent sounded a bit northern but wasn’t sure, because it wasn’t pronounced.

  ‘Yes, of course. I’ve got four stops to go yet.’

  The man sat down and handed his fare to the conductor, then hunted for his newspaper. Nan wriggled it out from beneath him and he chuckled, his eyes sparkling with merriment. He must be in his early sixties, Nan thought, but attractive with it and clearly good-natured.

  ‘I should lose my head if it wasn’t stuck on,’ he confessed. ‘I always start off with half a dozen things and end up with most of them left on the bus or train.’

  ‘That must be awkward?’

  ‘They know me well at lost property,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I usually get everything back, though the newspaper doesn’t get handed in very often.’

  ‘I expect people think it has been abandoned and take it home.’

  ‘Very likely. I hope I haven’t forgotten anything important today. I’m delivering this parcel and I’d hate to lose it. It’s part of the job I started last week, see. Work is hard enough to come by for a man like me.’

  ‘Yes, that would be awkward,’ Nan said, and laughed. ‘My name is Nan. I work at St Saviour’s – it’s a home for children in need …’

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard of it,’ he said, and offered his gloved hand. ‘I believe it’s run by Sister Beatrice – a friend of mine says she’s a marvel.’

  ‘Yes, Beatrice is wonderful with children. She is strict, because she has to be, but underneath she loves them all, as I do.’

  ‘What do you do there? Are you a nurse too?’

  ‘No, I’ve never had any training, but I had a family – and I help to look after the children. I suppose I’m the head carer. I just pick up the pieces and look after anything that needs doing, for the children, but also for everyone else. I do whatever I can to help, you see – and sometimes that is just a matter of a little tea and sympathy.’

  ‘Ah yes, I’m a great believer in tea and sympathy,’ he said. ‘Army life depends on it, you know. I was with the medics during the first war, just an orderly, running around fetching stuff for the doctors, and sorting out the men’s problems in me spare time. This time round I helped out at a care home; a biscuit and little drink of tea in my room helped to break down their reserve sometimes. Poor young devils; they’ll suffer for that damned war for the rest of their lives.’

  ‘Are you still in the Army?’

  ‘No, they threw me out after the Armistice; too old, they tell me,’ he said, and his eyes twinkled again. ‘I am lucky enough to have found myself a little job delivering books to the college. I’ve been taken on by a professor at the University. Nice chap, doesn’t ask much. I fetch his shopping, mostly cakes for the teas he gives his students. Like I said, a cup of tea makes the world go round and I enjoy meeting the lads. Decent bunch but a little mad at times.’

  Nan laughed, because he was an old soldier, a bit like her Sam had been; he made her feel comfortable and she knew he must get on well with his employer and the students. He seemed an amiable, fatherly sort of man whom everyone could trust and rely on.

  ‘I expect they are just grateful that they didn’t have to fight that awful war.’

  ‘The lost generation,’ he said, and the smile left his eyes. ‘So many friends were killed in the Great War, though I came through it almost unscathed, but this time it was my friends’ sons … they deserted their education and their jobs to fight for King and Country and too many didn’t come back.’

  ‘Yes, it is so sad, but wars always are,’ Nan said. ‘Well, it was nice talking to you, but the next stop is mine.’

  ‘Ah, then I must let you escape.’ He got up, his parcel sliding to the floor. Nan squeezed out into the aisle and then picked up his parcel, handing it to him as he sat down. ‘Goodbye, Nan. I enjoyed our chat.’

  Nan smiled. He hadn’t told her his name but he probably didn’t realise that.

  ‘So did I,’ she said. ‘I hope you don’t lose anything …’

  He murmured something but Nan was moving down the bus ready to get off at the next stop. Something made her look back before she stepped down, and he lifted his hat to her.

  Nan smiled inwardly as she started the short walk to St Saviour’s. It was funny how often you met pleasant people on a bus and fell into conversation, yet you probably never saw them again. She wouldn’t mind travelling with the old soldier more often, but doubted if it would happen.

  One thing, he’d cheered her up. She no longer felt so distressed by that letter. After all, Maisie was old enough to know her own mind and she would have to decide for herself if the future she’d chosen was what she truly wanted.

  EIGHT

  ‘Are you sure you can part with them?’ Sally asked that Monday evening as she tried on the beautiful gown in Angela’s apartment. It was a delicious powder-blue satin with thin straps and a low back, and then there were two gorgeous fine wool dresses that were simple in design and suitable for an informal evening out or lunch at a nice hotel. This was the second time she’d tried on Angela’s clothes; she’d borrowed a smart grey dress when Andrew took her to the theatre the previous week. Sally had returned it nicely sponged and pressed, but now Angela had offered to give her these. ‘I’ve never worn anything like this, Angela. The material is wonderful and the styling – I only meant to borrow something now and then and I ought not to take them …’ She looked a little embarrassed.

  ‘I’m happy to know they will be useful to you,’ Angela said. ‘Honestly, Sally. I shall never wear them and I would much rather you had them than give them to the jumble sale.’

  ‘You’re so kind,’ Sally said, and slipped out of the gown, pulling on her own tweed skirt and pink and grey striped hand-knitted jumper. ‘If there’s ever anything I can do for you, you must let me know.’

  ‘I shall,’ Angela laughed, and poured more coffee for them both. ‘I’m arranging some fundraising events soon at the church and I’d like to enlist your help if you’re free.’

  ‘Of course. What are you thinking of doing next?’

  ‘Well, I’m consi
dering putting on a concert of some sort. Some little sketches, a few songs, that sort of thing. We could involve the children and the staff and hold it at the church hall, sell tickets for a raffle and refreshments.’

  ‘I’d love to help. I could do a bit of sewing for the costumes or painting scenery,’ Sally offered. ‘I don’t think I’d be any good on the stage though.’

  Angela shook her head. ‘Some of the staff at St Saviour’s have lovely singing voices. I noticed it at the carol service. Father Joe helped with that, but I don’t suppose he would want to help with a concert …’

  ‘Not unless it was a religious one for Easter.’

  ‘I was thinking of a simple theme with some of the popular songs. I could play the piano for them myself.’

  ‘You’re so talented, Angela,’ Sally said. ‘I often wish I had some kind of talent.’

  ‘But you do.’ Angela contradicted her instantly. ‘You’re so good with children, Sally. Even the naughty ones do as you tell them, and the little ones love you. I’ve seen the way they cluster about you when you read to them. Sometimes I think you should have been a teacher.’

  ‘I’ve never thought of that as a talent.’

  ‘We shall all miss you if you leave to become a nurse.’

  ‘It won’t be just yet. I have to take one more exam and pass my scholarship to the college before I can get taken on at the hospital. I’m not sure if I can afford to take it up even if I do pass. It depends on whether my father gets this new job.’

  ‘Has he applied for one?’

  ‘Yes. A builder got in contact with him and asked if he was interested in taking on the job of helping to restore some war-damaged buildings. It was such a surprise, because although Dad had put his name down all over the place he didn’t think anything would come of it … but this looks like it might lead to something, if Dad fits the bill and has got the right skills.’

  ‘Well, that is encouraging,’ Angela said, and turned away to look at some sheet music, because she didn’t want Sally to guess that she’d had a hand in getting Mr Rush a chance of this work. She’d spoken to the builder who had renovated her flat. He’d been talking about the lack of skilled men, because of all the casualties during the war, and she’d mentioned Sally’s father. He’d promised to give it some thought, and it seemed as if her suggestion might have borne fruit, but Angela had no intention of telling anyone that she’d mentioned Mr Rush’s name. It would only embarrass Sally.

  ‘Dad says it will mean giving up his job on the Docks, but his firm have been cutting his hours for months, because the work just isn’t there now since the war ended. The returning soldiers took all the jobs there were going and Dad lost out. There are all sorts of schemes for the future, but nothing certain. Mum says he’s a fool if he turns this offer down.’

  ‘He wouldn’t do that, would he?’

  ‘He said that you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks, but Mum has talked him round, and I’m sure he’ll go if he gets the chance.’

  ‘Let’s hope he does,’ Angela said, and looked at her thoughtfully.

  She’d been wondering whether she should voice her suspicions about Nancy. Had the girl really been implying that her father had abused her or had Angela imagined that look? That kind of thing was too horrible to contemplate. Angela couldn’t be certain, yet she’d sensed it that night when Nancy looked at her so oddly. If she spoke to Sister Beatrice or Father Joe, she knew that they would both want to investigate immediately – and Angela felt that Nancy needed a little time to recover from the trauma she’d experienced.

  ‘What do you think of Nancy and Terry?’ she asked casually. ‘They ought to be in the dorms with the other children, but he screams if anyone tries to take him away from his sister.’

  ‘I haven’t seen much of them,’ Sally said. ‘I’ve been on normal duties recently. Michelle asks for me to work with her when she needs a carer, but Staff Nurse Carole, she sort of ignores me. Oh, she says hello if we meet in the staff room, but she never says about going out or talks about her life – not that I’ve seen her much.’

  ‘We’ve just sort of smiled in passing.’ Angela raised her fine brows. ‘I expect most of your evenings are taken up now?’

  ‘With Andrew? We’ve been out three times since he got back after the New Year. He takes me to lovely places – what about you and Mark?’

  ‘Mark and I are just friends, Sally.’ Angela frowned slightly, knowing she sounded defensive.

  ‘Oh yes, I know that,’ Sally was quick to reassure her friend, ‘but sometimes he takes you out, doesn’t he?’

  Angela felt a slight hesitation. She knew that she was still smarting over the business with her mother. She had been avoiding him at St Saviour’s and the thought of it made her unhappy, so she quickly changed the subject.

  ‘We’ve both been busy,’ Angela said. ‘Let’s see, this is Monday and I’m actually dining out with another friend of mine this week, Nick Hadden, but I’m free on Thursday evening. I think Forever Amber is on at the Regal; it came out last year but is still doing the rounds. I’d like to see it – if you would?’

  ‘I’d love to, but you mustn’t feel you have to.’ Sally looked shy.

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t, believe me.’ Angela and Sally both laughed. ‘Like you, I haven’t made much headway with Carole Clarke yet. I like Michelle and I’m hoping she will come to my house-warming, but as yet I don’t have many friends here in London.’

  ‘Perhaps Carole is just slow to make friends,’ Sally said. ‘I must try to get to know her.’

  ‘Yes, me too. I’ll ask her to come to my house-warming. You’re right, Sally. We mustn’t misjudge her.’

  ‘Well, I ought to go now,’ Sally said. ‘I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve given me, Angela, and remember I owe you a favour.’

  ‘Forget the clothes. I should never wear them because of the memories they arouse. Now don’t say another word about them, and if you need to borrow shoes or anything for a special date just tell me …’

  Sally laughed. ‘You’re a real friend, Angela. I’m glad you came to St Saviour’s.’

  ‘So am I; it’s given me a new life,’ Angela said, and pecked at her cheek. ‘Are you all right walking or can you get a bus? I imagine it is a bit slippery out, because I think there was some more snow – just a sprinkling, thank goodness, but it can be treacherous to walk on.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll go carefully. I’ll walk over the bridge and then take a bus,’ Sally said, picking up the bag of clothes. ‘Goodnight, Angela. I think your apartment is lovely … different and smart.’

  Angela accompanied Sally to the door and waved her hand until she was in the lift going down. Then she locked her door, collected the dirty dishes and took them into the small kitchen. As she did so she thought again about Mark and realised that she hadn’t seen him since Christmas. He’d been in and out of St Saviour’s over the last week or so but she had deliberately avoided him and he hadn’t rung to ask her out. She knew that her feelings of anger at him were silly and unfair. She’d missed his company and yet was somehow reluctant to repair the breach between them; Mark was at fault, he should come to her.

  Sighing, and feeling annoyed with herself, Angela ran a bath and slipped into the water scented with Yardley’s English Lavender. She knew she ought to talk to Mark about Nancy, because she had a feeling something was wrong with those children – something that wasn’t visible on the surface. Angela didn’t know why she felt so uneasy about them. St Saviour’s took in a lot of mistreated or damaged children, but there was something different about these two – something hidden.

  Perhaps, she should invite Mark over for a drink one evening and ask what he thought of the children. Angela trusted his judgement and if he thought all was well, she would keep her suspicions to herself.

  It was perhaps fate that Angela should bump into Mark a couple of days later when she went into the isolation ward. She’d made some lemon barley and was bringing a jug of it to the
ward, and felt pleased when she saw that Mark was standing close to the boy’s bed with Staff Nurse Carole, checking the records. He turned as Angela entered and smiled, his eyes holding hers for just a moment.

  ‘Good morning, Angela. This young man was just saying he was thirsty.’

  ‘Yes, I came earlier to bring him something …’ Angela’s words died away as she saw her own teddy bear that she’d given to Terry. It was lying on the floor and its head had been torn off the body. The sight of her much-loved toy mutilated like that made Angela go cold all over. This was the teddy she given him to replace the one that Nancy said he’d lost in the fire. Why had he destroyed it?

  Glancing at Terry, she saw a gleam in his eyes and knew that he was waiting for her to say something. He looked expectant, wary but excited, as though he had deliberately done it to make her angry. Carefully keeping her expression blank, she poured two glasses of lemon barley and took one to Terry and then one to Nancy, standing them by the sides of the beds.

  ‘I’m sorry, miss.’ Nancy spoke in hushed tones, glancing anxiously at the nurse and Mark, who were talking and looking at her brother. ‘I know you meant it kindly, but it upset him. He didn’t mean to do it, but when he gets upset he sometimes does silly things.’

  ‘It is all right, Nancy,’ Angela managed, though she was upset. ‘It was only an old thing. I just thought he might like it.’

  ‘He will like it after I’ve mended it,’ Nancy said. ‘If I could have some sewing stuff – I’ve always looked after him, sewing buttons on and things …’

  Angela saw the frightened look in the girl’s eyes and reached down to touch her hand sympathetically. ‘Is that what you would like – some sewing things? I have some spare bits and bobs you could have if you like, and I could get you some material to make yourself a pretty dress you can wear for best.’