The Forgotten Orphan: The heartbreaking and gripping World War 2 historical novel

by Glynis Peters

  Maisie thought the waste was not going to be an issue as the very thought of it all on her face was not appealing. Her own lashes were already dark, and she’d often been told it was unusual for a redhead as they often had fair lashes. She pushed the mascara pat and the powder to one side and pondered the rouge. Her cheeks were usually ruddy at the best of times, so she also reduced that to the ranks of ‘not today thanks’. The nail polish and lipstick were the only items that appealed, and she busied herself filing her nails into an almond shape and applying two layers of the polish. She sat reading as they dried and glanced across at the lipstick debating how best to apply it, and wondering whether it would clash with her hair. Once satisfied her nails were dry, she fetched a mirror and applied a light layer of the lipstick to her bottom lip. She’d seen Val pout and push her lips together to smudge top to bottom, but just as she was poised to do the same, a knock rang out along the hallway. Someone was at the front door. Taking a moment to wonder who it might be, she searched for her handkerchief to wipe away the lipstick as she went to open the door.

  To her surprise, the visitor was Cam. He stood there smiling with beads of sweat across his brow and his backpack on his shoulders. Maisie’s heart jumped a beat and she quickly ran through what she was wearing: clean skirt, blouse, no socks or stockings, barefoot, tidy hair and neat nails. She gave an inward sigh of relief.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, only I’m lost and …’ He frowned at her. ‘Have you cut your lip? I think it might be bleeding,’ he said with concern in his voice.

  ‘Lipstick. I was removing lipstick. A new shade to try,’ Maisie said in a flippant tone, as if lipstick played a large part in her daily routine. She dabbed again at her lips with the handkerchief to prove her point.

  ‘Oh, I see. Anyway, I know this is an unannounced visit, only I missed a turning across the common and found myself here. Without road signs, I wasn’t sure where I was. I passed through a vegetable garden and ventured across the lawns once I saw this house, and didn’t hesitate to knock when I saw the name engraved above the doorway. What luck eh?’ Cam’s words came out fast and rushed and his face flushed as he spoke. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Maisie sensed he was only telling half the truth. It excited her to think he’d gone out of his way to visit her.

  ‘Luck and fate, I’d say. You look hot and bothered. Would you like a glass of water? Take a rest, perhaps?’ she asked, hoping the answer would be yes. She’d hoped for someone to chat to about Cam, and now the luck was all hers because she got to chat with him again.

  ‘I’d not say no to the water and I will stay a short while. I can justify my tardiness to my sarge by explaining how I got lost, but not for sitting in the company of a pretty girl.’ Cam laughed and Maisie stepped aside to let him in. She wasn’t going to waste a minute of their precious time standing on the doorstep when she could be sitting inside and enjoying his company. He unhitched his belongings and removed his cap. She noticed his head was soaked with sweat.

  ‘Feel free to run your head under the tap in the kitchen. I’ll fetch you a towel. You’ll catch cold.’ She wasn’t sure why she added the last bit as it made her sound like a fussing old woman. So she followed it through with a light-hearted laugh. ‘An old wives’ tale, I’m sure, but it’s no bother and better not take the risk. Back in a mo.’

  Maisie pointed him in the direction of the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time. She hastily daubed cleansing cream across her lips and gave them a rinse with her flannel then she grabbed a towel and sped downstairs, just in time to see Cam shirtless and dipping his head under the tap. His bronzed muscles moved across his shoulders as he rubbed his head. She admired the fact that the cold water didn’t make him flinch away and remained focused on what she realised was her first sight of an adult male’s bare torso. Her body tingled. When he finished, he kept his head over the sink and ran his fingers through his hair to rinse away the excess water. Maisie knew she could wait for him to raise his head or she could make a bold move. She opted for the latter and moved forward, reaching out and touching his back.

  ‘I’ve a towel for you,’ she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as breathless as she felt. ‘It’s here. She tapped it on his right hand. As Cam reached out, their hands touched. For a few seconds neither one of them moved. Cam was the first to break the moment. He pulled the towel to him and rubbed his head. When he stood up and turned around, his face was covered. Maisie hoped her own face wouldn’t give away her thoughts when she saw his muscular chest in all its glory. It was outlined with shapes she’d never seen before and a pleasurable – and most welcome – ripple surged around her body.

  ‘I’ll get a glass … for your drink.’

  Cam wiped his chest down and Maisie forced herself to turn away and look in the cupboard for a cup.

  ‘Feel better?’ she asked.

  ‘Thanks,’ Cam replied.

  Without making eye contact, Maisie moved to the sink at the same time as he reached forward to get his shirt. She turned on the tap and, to her disappointment, when she’d turned around he was fastening the last button.

  She gave a soft smile. ‘I don’t know how you do it.’

  Cam drank down the water.

  ‘Do what?’ he asked as he handed her the glass.

  ‘Walk so far,’ she replied.

  ‘Some walks are worth the extra mile.’

  A dam burst in Maisie as he stared at her, and she felt her cheeks flood and burn. She’d read his silent message loud and clear: he hadn’t got lost. He’d sought her out. He’d deliberately taken the route to the house just to see her.

  She looked back at him with a new boldness and smiled.

  ‘Feel free to get lost and freshen up here anytime – well, before we’re invaded by nurses.’ No sooner the words were out of her mouth than Maisie regretted them. If he did revisit, what chance did she stand against the glamour of nurses? He could have his pick of women. Why on earth did she think he’d be seriously interested in her? Maybe his mixed message was her mix up. Maybe he meant the glass of water and a wash, not her company after all. Whatever the reason, she’d had the pleasure of seeing more of him than she’d ever anticipated and would remember it for a long time to come.

  ‘I’ll see you again sometime. And thanks.’

  Maisie watched as he hitched his backpack onto his back and strapped it into place. It was easy to see how he’d built up his muscles.

  ‘You’re more than welcome. Mind as you go.’

  Maisie watched him walk across the lawns towards the allotments, and it came to her that he’d not asked for directions back to barracks. He really had gone out of his way to visit her! A small smile played on her lips and the rest of her day was spent reliving the memory of Cam and his muscles taking a wash in the kitchen sink.

  The following morning, the crunch of tyres on the gravelled drive alerted Maisie that visitors had arrived. She put down the papers she was packing away and peered through the office window.

  There was a loud thud on the front door, followed by a male voice giving loud instructions to someone about taking the filing boxes away.

  Maisie pulled open the front door and, to her surprise, a stream of servicemen stood in a row on the driveway.

  ‘We’ve come to collect the official files to go to the council offices,’ a man in uniform barked out at her. Maisie suspected he resented working on what he perceived to be civilian affairs.

  ‘They’re in the office ready for you. I just have to check them off as they leave,’ she said and fetched her clipboard.

  The servicemen trooped through and passed boxes to one another in a steady stream from the office to the front door, then onto the drive. Each box was stacked into the back of an army vehicle by a young soldier under her watchful eye. Maisie watched until the last box was set down, and the truck doors closed.

  ‘All recorded,’ she declared.

  The soldier nodded his thanks. ‘I’m to give this to the housekeeper. I
f you can pass it along please?’

  Before Maisie could tell him that the letter was for her, he and his team were driving away.

  She ripped open the letter which informed her that there was to be a visit from a delegation of inspectors arriving at two o’clock the following day. The building was now under government control. It had been requisitioned by, and handed over to, The Ministry of Works. The guardian housekeeper was to be on hand to provide access to the property.

  Suddenly, it dawned on Maisie that she needed to establish her presence in the house. She needed time to find a new home and a job; being thrown onto the streets by government officials was not an option. She needed to secure a salary that was decent enough to survive.

  If she wanted to stay, she needed to present herself as settled, organised, and capable. She needed to be too valuable for anyone to force her out before she was ready to leave.

  Straight away, she set about putting her plans into action. She moved her belongings into the bedroom that had been set aside for the matron. Why she’d not done it before was beyond her. She’d slept in the same bed in an empty dormitory out of habit, which she realised now was ridiculous. She sorted through the piles of bed linen for spare sheets and blankets. Placing them in the blanket box at the end of her bed, she then gathered up all the toiletries she could find and placed them in the bathroom opposite, along with a large quantity of various sized towels. She finished upstairs and went down to the kitchen where she organised all the non-perishable food items into the lockable pantry. She set aside her own supper, including the remaining apple pie, and then went on to search the laundry pile for spare clothing. After the clothes rationing had been brought into play the previous June, staff had donated old clothes to be altered or remade into new ones for the children. Quite often, for example, a man’s shirt became a shift dress. Maisie selected a pile of the best items, found Gloria’s old sewing box, and put them all in her bedroom. After eating her supper and devouring the last crumb of her apple pie with no guilty feelings at all, Maisie went to her room and sat beside the blazing fire she’d built. Her nerves were restless, but she concentrated on unpicking a jumper and rewinding the wool until her eyelids grew heavy. She undressed and clambered into bed, not daring to think about what the next day would bring.

  Would this be the last day at Holly Bush?

  Sitting at the desk, Maisie enjoyed the light from the window. It was always bright in that part of the room and whenever she’d stood there ironing, Maisie had often fantasised about reading or writing at a desk in that spot. She doubted the office would be accessible to her when the new residents arrived, and she wanted to make it look as if the area was her normal place of work.

  Surprised that she had managed to get a good night’s sleep given her nerves at what the following day might bring, Maisie enjoyed watching the dawn battle for attention behind fast-moving clouds. She had until two o’clock to enjoy the peace and quiet. Still shocked that such a large establishment could be left in the hands of a girl as young as herself, Maisie wondered what Gloria and Norah would have made of the situation as she ran her fingers across the keys hanging from their hooks. She laughed to herself when she imagined the looks of shock on their faces. Maisie Reynolds in charge of Holly Bush House! She loved that the word ‘orphanage’ would no longer be used to describe the building.

  After firing up the boiler for hot water and using up precious coal, Maisie drew a bath to the marked level, which had been painted on shortly after war broke out, and washed herself down with lily-of-the-valley soap. Drying herself on one of the larger towels instead of a thin rough one like she’d normally use, she followed through with washing her hair. The curls bounced into their natural positions and Maisie left them to dry without brushing.

  She studied herself in front of the long mirror. It took a few minutes to appreciate that all her childish features – including her tangled hair – had now disappeared. Curls replaced frizz, and she had firm neat breasts, a trim waist, and shapely hips which all complemented each other. Her skin was no longer pale and wan. Instead, it had a peach-pink glow, and her limbs were defined by rounded, muscular mounds. She rummaged through the clothing that was neatly ironed and hanging in the wardrobe and selected a heavy cotton pinafore dress in navy blue and a pale blue floral blouse with navy woollen tights. March hadn’t moved into the weather for bare legs, plus it gave the impression of a uniform of sorts. She picked up a copy of Wuthering Heights and laid it on the table; she’d come back to it later. First, she wanted to do a final inspection of the other buildings, and await the arrival of those who held her future in their hands.

  CHAPTER 8

  At two minutes past two o’clock, Maisie stacked the last of her dishes away in the cupboard, dried her hands, and went into the hallway to greet the occupants of a large black Ford car which was pulling up outside. Four men wearing dark suits and trilby hats, and carrying brown leather briefcases, stepped from the vehicle and gathered together, turning this way and that, taking in their surroundings.

  Composing herself as they approached the building, Maisie waited for a knock on the door but stepped backwards in surprise when a key rattled in the lock, and the door swung open. She stood stock still, dumbstruck and fearful.

  ‘… And the staff have all left aside from a …’

  The man at the front of the small group stopped in his tracks and stared at Maisie, who in turn stared right back. He moved to one side to let the others enter, and each one took a second or two to register her presence. One man who was so short he had to look up at Maisie, held out his hand.

  ‘I assume you are Mrs Douglas. It’s kind of you to help with refreshments. We’ll not bother you for long. I know you have a train to catch, but if we encroach on your time, we’ll leave the key under the mat when we leave, in readiness for the removal team tomorrow. I believe the medical teams are arriving first. We were under the impression you were leaving earlier than expected. Now, as you can see gentlemen …’

  He turned away from her before Maisie had an opportunity to enlighten him that whoever Mrs Douglas was, she wasn’t her and she had no intention of going anywhere. She watched open-mouthed as all four moved into the temporary office. Unsure whether to follow or to stay where she was, Maisie thought she’d wait for an appropriate moment to interrupt them.

  Heading back to the kitchen, she was setting up cups and saucers when the kitchen door opened and another man peered inside.

  ‘Ah, tea. Could we have the keys for the other buildings please, Mrs Douglas?’

  Maisie frowned. Didn’t she look too young to be a Mrs?

  ‘I’m afraid you – and possibly I – have been misled. I’m Maisie Reynolds, general house—’ she broke off and started again. ‘Well, I suppose I am the housekeeper, and also a former resident. I’ve no idea who Mrs Douglas might be. I’m sorry.’

  The man fiddled with the edge of his thick moustache, his face etched with confusion. He followed up with a semi-smile.

  ‘I did wonder. You are younger than we’d anticipated, but the war has brought forward many young married couples, so we assumed you were she, so to speak. Never mind. At least there’s someone on hand to make us a cuppa.’ He guffawed out a laugh.

  Maisie reached down for the keys and handed them to him.

  ‘I’m skilled in that area, that’s for sure. I’ll take a tray of tea into the office for you at five,’ she said, offering him a warm smile.

  Without replying, the man left the room and Maisie glanced at the clock. Another forty-five minutes to herself. She heard footsteps on the stairs and above her head. They were in her room. The familiar click of the bathroom door sounded out, and the creak of the floorboard in the long dormitory room. She picked up her book and continued reading but could not concentrate on the words. Eventually, the ping of the clock told her reading time was over and she kept her promise of tea in the office.

  All four men were huddled around hastily drawn pictures and markings laid out
on the table. Maisie hesitated as to where she should place the tray, but luckily one of the men made space. Setting it down, she poured four cups and handed one each to the men.

  ‘I’m sorry we have no biscuits. I have a little bread, if you’re hungry. Or I can find something to cook, but there’s very little here, I’m afraid.’

  All the men drank from their cups as she spoke, and she stood there unsure of what was expected of her. The man she assumed was the head of the group placed his cup back on the tray and gave her a smile.

  ‘I understand you are Miss Maisie Reynolds. My colleague told me of our misunderstanding. Forgive my earlier mistake – foolish of me. Your name rang a bell when my colleague here told me, and I realised we have information here with regard to employment for you as a temporary measure. Your time in the care of the orphanage is over, as I understand it, and you have nowhere to go while you await call-up papers. You make a good cup of tea, I’ll grant you that. Ideal housekeeping skills.’

  The rest of the men nodded politely and gave encouraging smiles as they also put down their cups. Maisie felt awkward and confused but knew her future was in their hands, and she wasn’t prepared to leave the room until she had answers.

  ‘You mentioned something about medical teams arriving tomorrow. Is this to become a hospital?’ she asked.

  ‘Of sorts,’ the man said. ‘We’ve handed the building over for medical rehabilitation and recovery. The Emergency Hospital Service is in need of support. Beds for general ill-health are not always available due to the large number of injured from the bombings. With its many rooms and units, it makes this the ideal property. Servicemen will be moved here as a priority from the end of the week, and it will be monitored by the Ministry of Health from there. Our job is done. Inspection complete. Satisfied, gentlemen?’