The Little Runaways

by Cathy Sharp

  ‘I shan’t keep you.’ Mark stood aside, watching her walk swiftly along the hall and down the stairs. He’d assumed that Angela would be free most evenings, but she was clearly more involved with Nick Hadden than he’d known. He felt wounded by the idea that her happiness came from being with another man, but tried to put it out of his mind as he knocked at the door of Sister Beatrice’s office.

  ‘Come in.’

  Entering, he saw that the Warden was sitting at her desk, several papers spread out in front of her. She was frowning, as if she’d been concentrating and was annoyed by the interruption.

  ‘You asked me to call. I hope you’re not too busy?’

  ‘Not at all,’ she said, and shuffled the papers together. ‘I was just looking at some accounts for this month. Angela has some rather adventurous ideas for fund raising …’

  ‘Oh? Something rankles?’ Mark arched his brows.

  ‘No, I’m very grateful to her.’ There was an oddly defensive air about her. ‘I wanted you to take another look at Terry for me. Nancy ought to start school again – but the boy still refuses to be parted from her. He’s been here some weeks now and I’m a bit anxious about him, because of the way he clings to his sister – though he gets on well with Father Joe.’

  ‘I’ll call in and speak to them both, but my advice is to give them both enough time to recover. Nancy could perhaps do some school work here? I doubt if she will want to take her higher exams but you never know. See what she has to say about her future before you decide.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps we could arrange something with the school. I’ve done it for my patients who were not well enough to attend, but Nancy should be mixing with girls of her age and having fun. I’m not sure about the brother – my instincts tell me he could be difficult.’

  ‘Yes, I’m certain he could if pressed. I had hoped he might get back to normality here, but if you feel you cannot keep him then it might be best if I had him transferred to a more specialised home for damaged children.’ Mark had been turning the matter over in his mind, unwilling to act precipitously but aware that he might have to move the child at short notice. ‘There is one I think suitable, but they do not often have space, and a mental institution is rather drastic – unless he has shown signs of violence?’

  ‘No, apart from kicking the nurses a few times when he was first admitted. It was just something in the way he looked at me when I spoke to them yesterday. I tried to be gentle, to explain that Nancy needed to go to school and that he should go too when he’s ready but he just kept shaking his head and I felt he resented me.’

  ‘I’m sure he did,’ Mark said. ‘He has escaped from a dominant father who beat him and now finds that he is being told what he must do by a stranger. I shall advise you to go very slowly. If he becomes violent I need to know at once.’

  ‘You will visit him?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’m always happy to look at any of the children.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Sister Beatrice smiled her relief. ‘I do not want to do him an injustice but I must protect the others.’

  Mark smiled and left her. He walked back down the hall and then took the lift up to the next floor. His own feelings about the brother and sister were as yet uncertain. Nancy was definitely hiding something and both of them were nervous; the girl was frightened every time he spoke to her brother. He thought back to his conversation with Angela. What did she think Terry might tell him?

  Approaching the room that had been Nan’s sitting room, he saw Nancy disappearing down the stairs at the other end of the hall. He hesitated for a moment outside the door and then entered. Terry was standing with his back to him, close to the window; he seemed intent on something – catching something. Mark saw the butterfly fluttering desperately against the glass just as Terry cupped it with his hands. It must have been brought out by an unusually warm day for February, because the wintry sunshine was hot through the glass, but a butterfly could not survive in this weather. He was just about to say he would open the window so that the poor thing could be let out and take its chance when he saw Terry quite deliberately pull first one wing and then the other from the struggling creature. The wingless insect floundered on the windowsill as Terry dropped it and turned to face Mark.

  ‘It should be dead,’ he said in a flat tone. ‘It was the sun what brought it out from its dark corner – but it would die outside.’

  ‘The poor creature is suffering,’ Mark grunted. He picked up one of Nancy’s shoes from the floor and delivered a sharp blow, putting the mutilated butterfly out of its misery. ‘That was cruel, Terry. What made you hurt it?’

  ‘It was a prisoner. It’s better to be dead than locked up. I would’ve killed it if you hadn’t come.’

  ‘You should have let the poor creature take its chance outside.’

  Tears welled in Terry’s eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to do it, sir. Honest. I just thought it was pretty and I wanted to catch it for Nancy – and the wings just pulled off. You won’t tell her, will yer?’

  ‘I shan’t tell her, but you must never do anything like that again, Terry.’ Mark opened the window and brushed the evidence outside so that it fell to the ground. ‘Do you think Nancy would say it was all right?’

  ‘Nancy would cry,’ Terry said. ‘She’s gone down to have her dinner with the others and she says she’ll bring me a sandwich back. She was cross because I wouldn’t go, but I want to go home to Ma. I want my ma …’

  ‘Are you very unhappy here, Terry?’

  ‘It’s all right – but that old witch wants to send me away. Nance says I have to be good or they might lock us up in prison. She would be cross if she knew what I’d done. Nance mustn’t be cross …’

  Mark had never heard Terry speak more than two words when his sister was in the room. He tried to analyse the situation clinically, shutting out all personal feelings. Was Nancy the dominant one – did Terry take his lead from her? Was he afraid of his sister?

  ‘She won’t be cross because I shan’t tell her.’

  ‘It can be our secret. Nance says I have to keep secrets – all our secrets. If I’m good Ma will come and take me home … won’t she?’

  ‘Your mother can’t come for you, Terry. You know she can’t.’ Mark saw him flinch, saw the pain in his face. He was perfectly capable of understanding when forced to it, but he was trying to block it all out – why? What was he hiding – what were they both afraid of revealing? ‘One day Nancy will make another home for you, but she has to go to school and learn things so that she can get a good job – you know that, don’t you? You ought to go to school, too, Terry. Wouldn’t you like that – to be with boys of your own age?’

  ‘I can’t learn things. The teacher says I’m backward and the other kids hate me. Pa says I’m an idiot. I heard him tell her that if she didn’t do what he wanted he would send me away somewhere they would lock me up in a dark room with bars on the windows and never let me out, and that made Nance cry …’ Terry blinked and rubbed at his eyes. ‘She will be cross with me for telling you. I want Ma …’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you do,’ Mark said, looking at him sadly. ‘Father Joe might be able to find you a place at a special school he helps to run. You learn different things there, Terry – not sums and writing, but working with your hands; perhaps pottery or wood carving. Would you go there sometimes if Nancy went to her school?’

  ‘I might – if Nance told me to. I have to do what she says or she’ll be cross.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see,’ Mark said. ‘Aren’t you hungry? Wouldn’t you like to go downstairs and have something to eat?’

  ‘I don’t know where to go …’

  ‘Supposing I take you and show you?’

  ‘All right. I’m hungry.’ Terry’s eyes were very bright as he looked at Mark. ‘You will keep our secret?’ He gave a little high-pitched nervous giggle.

  ‘Yes,’ Mark assured him gently. ‘Let’s go and find Nancy now, shall we?’

  ‘All right, if you say so.’
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  Mark guided him from the room, feeling the ache of sympathy start inside. The boy was more damaged than he’d imagined at the start. If he was right, this boy wasn’t insane, but on the edge of a mental breakdown, his natural backwardness having been pushed into something dark and unpleasant. Sister Beatrice was right to have asked for Mark’s advice. It was just luck that he’d found Terry alone, because if Nancy had been present the boy wouldn’t have shown that hidden side of him – the part that might become violent if pushed too far.

  It was going to take a while to place Terry where he could live in a safe environment and receive the treatment he desperately needed. Mark didn’t consider it necessary to have him sectioned, but there were special places that could help very disturbed children: unfortunately, there were not many of them and it was difficult to find an opening in a good place, because Terry needed special treatment, not just a school for backward boys. He must warn Sister Beatrice to use caution. Terry wasn’t dangerous, but there was something unpleasant simmering deep down inside – it had shown itself briefly in the way he’d mutilated the butterfly.

  Mark couldn’t be certain, but he was pretty sure it was a case of two diametrically opposed personalities: one of them was the shy, nervous boy who relied on his sister for everything and the other – Mark could hardly contemplate the other, because it could mean that Terry might never be allowed his freedom again and the thought of what that would do to the child was desperately sad. To put Terry away in one of those soulless places, where he would be incarcerated in a ward, probably with children or even adults, who were truly mad, would be an unforgivable thing. No, Mark must trust his instincts and find a place where Terry had a chance of a decent life, but he must do it as swiftly as he could. Yet in his heart he could feel nothing but sympathy both for the boy and his sister when they learned of the inevitable parting.

  After leaving Terry with his sister in the dining room, Mark went back upstairs to the first floor. He ought to have another word with Sister Beatrice before he left, but finding her office empty, he walked along to the sick ward, knocked and entered. Staff Nurse Carole was alone with her patients, one of whom was Sarah Morgan, who was looking much better and sitting up eating a dish of rice pudding with strawberry jam.

  ‘Sister not here?’ Mark asked.

  Carole turned and gave him a dazzling smile, walking towards the desk where he stood. ‘No, she came to look at our star patient – Sarah is getting on famously now – but she’s gone downstairs to talk to Nan.’

  ‘I’ll try and see her before I go,’ Mark said. ‘But I have to get back to the hospital; I have patients in an hour.’ About to turn away, he remembered, with some irritation, the theatre tickets and Angela’s date with Nick Hadden. ‘I suppose you wouldn’t like to come to the theatre with me – and supper afterwards?’ Mark marvelled at himself for asking her. It hadn’t occurred to him before he’d seen her, but she was looking at him in a way that was hard to resist.

  ‘When?’

  ‘This evening? I know it’s short notice, but I only managed to get them this morning on my way here.’

  ‘I should love to,’ Carole said. ‘Where shall we meet?’

  Mark laughed, surprised by her quick reply. She hadn’t even asked what was on, which meant it was his company that she was interested in. He was pleased and flattered, because she was very attractive, younger of course, but he wasn’t old, in his prime really. Occasionally, when dealing with children like Terry, he felt like living dangerously. Tonight, of all nights, he could do with leaving all thoughts of work behind. The company of a pretty and vivacious woman was just what he needed. And if not Angela, then why not Carole?

  ‘I’ll call for you here and we’ll take a taxi,’ he said. ‘At seven, then?’

  ‘Lovely. That gives me time to get out of this uniform, into something more suitable.’ Carole threw him a flirtatious look. ‘You know, I thought you would never ask …’

  Mark couldn’t ignore the suggestion in Carole’s words and in her eyes. She wasn’t Angela, but she was sexy, good-looking, and he thought she would be fun to be with – and there was no harm in a date with a pretty girl. After all, Angela was meeting Nick Hadden; so why would she complain if he took Carole out? It might even make her a little jealous.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Mary Ellen went to sit next to the new children at breakfast on Saturday morning. Betsy was sitting with Nancy and Terry and looking miserable, because they were ignoring her. She pulled out a spare chair and sat down, looking at each of the new arrivals in turn. Betsy was about her own age, but pale and thin with lank mousy hair that straggled on her neck and fell into her eyes. One of the carers ought to have washed it for her, thought Mary Ellen.

  ‘You haven’t eaten much,’ she observed, looking at the toast and marmalade on Betsy’s plate. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’

  ‘I don’t like marmalade,’ Betsy snivelled, and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. ‘Ma always gave me dripping in the mornings.’

  ‘Marmalade is lovely,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘There were some boiled eggs yesterday, but none today. The chickens aren’t laying and Cook says there’s no fresh eggs in the shop this week. The scrambled egg is made from that powdered stuff. It’s all right but I like jam best, especially strawberry.’

  ‘I like strawberry,’ Betsy said, and looked more cheerful. ‘But I didn’t see any.’

  ‘Have mine, and I’ll have your marmalade.’ Mary Ellen held out her plate. ‘Go on, take it. I haven’t touched it – and I’ll take the bit you haven’t bitten.’ The exchange was done and Betsy munched away, looking happier. Mary Ellen turned her attention to the boy sitting across the table from her. ‘I’m Mary Ellen O’Hanran – you’re Terry, aren’t you?’

  He stared at her and then looked at his sister. ‘I’m going back to the room, Nance. I don’t like it here …’

  ‘Terry, don’t be rude,’ Nancy said disapprovingly. ‘Mary Ellen is just being friendly.’ But Terry glared at her and ran off and Nancy smiled apologetically at the other girls. ‘I’m sorry about my brother. He’s still upset about what happened to our parents. I’m pleased to meet you both. Have you been here long?’

  ‘A few months,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘I came in to stay while my mother went to hospital. I was going to live with her when she got better but she died – and Rose, my sister, is training to be a nurse.’ Nancy was surprised by the matter-of-fact way that Mary Ellen told her story. ‘She’s coming to visit me this morning, which is why I’m late to breakfast. Sally washed my hair – she would do yours if you asked her, Betsy.’

  Betsy blushed and got up suddenly, and then ran off. She looked close to tears and Nancy stared after her in surprise.

  ‘What is the matter with her?’

  ‘She hasn’t been here long, and new kids are often like that,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘I’ve heard her mother went off and left her while she was in the hospital – her mother probably used to wash her hair for her. I upset her.’

  ‘You didn’t mean to,’ Nancy said. ‘Her hair needs washing or she’ll pick up nits. I used to wash Terry’s hair when we were at home, lots of kids in the street had nits, but we didn’t.’

  ‘Didn’t your mother do it for him?’

  ‘She was ill,’ Nancy said, and quickly changed the subject. ‘Do you like being here? What are the carers like? I’ve only seen a few of them, because Terry won’t let them wash him. I take him to the bathroom myself, though he can wash himself if he wants to – but you know what boys are.’

  Mary Ellen laughed. Nancy was nice, better than her brother and Betsy. Yet Marion and Billy were her best friends; Billy had gone to football practice and Marion was helping Sally with the little ones, as Mary Ellen usually did on a Saturday, but today was special, because Rose was coming to take her out.

  She finished her toast and her milk, then scraped back her chair. ‘I have to go now and get ready. I hope you’ll be happy here, Nancy – and your brother. I’m sorry if I upset h
im.’

  ‘It’s not your fault.’

  Mary Ellen nodded and left Nancy, who had started to clear the dirty plates onto a metal tray. It looked as if she meant to carry them to the kitchen. That was the kitchen girls’ job but it wasn’t up to Mary Ellen to tell her not to if she wanted to help. No one knew better than Mary Ellen how difficult it was to find your place in the first few days and weeks. Nancy had obviously been used to helping her mother at home and she must feel a bit lost here with little to do.

  ‘You look well.’ Rose looked down at Mary Ellen and smiled. ‘I think you’re happier than you were, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m all right, but it isn’t like being at home,’ Mary Ellen said, and took hold of her hand. Rose had had her dark hair cut and was as pretty and smart as ever. ‘Billy is staying here now for good, and I really like him, and Marion – and I like Sarah Morgan too and Nancy too.’

  ‘As long as you have friends, and it won’t be for ever, you just have to make do for now,’ Rose said. ‘I thought we’d go shopping and then have something to eat at the Lyons’ Corner House. I’ve got some good news for you, love. I’ve passed my first exams with flying colours and I’m officially called Nurse now. I’m still a junior but I’ll be taken on the staff in another year and then I’ll start to get paid more than a pittance.’

  ‘Will you fetch me away then?’

  ‘No, not until I’m fully qualified,’ Rose told her firmly. ‘I have to live in the Nurses’ Home until then – and even after I’ve passed all my exams I shall have to get permission to live out. When I’m a senior staff nurse, then perhaps I could manage to find us a place.’

  ‘Could Billy come too? In a few years he will be able to work and then he could pay towards his keep.’

  Rose frowned slightly. ‘I know you think a lot of him, Mary Ellen, but you shouldn’t get your hopes up too high. What sort of future has he got? Ma and Pa wouldn’t have wanted you to get involved with a ruffian – or worse …’