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

by Glynis Peters

  Maisie leaned over and kissed Joyce on the cheek.

  ‘Maybe you’ll give me one for Christmas. Keep your chin up, Charlie will get more leave before he’s shipped out, I’m sure. And you’ll have him fussing over you for days. I hope you feel better soon, and I’ll drop by in a few days to check. It’s a bit busy at the house, but I’ve always got time for you my lovely. No, stay there. I’ll let myself out. Take care.’

  On her way home, Maisie fretted over Joyce. She’d lost a baby and never said; it must have been a sad time in her life. Goodness knows how alone she must have felt with Charlie away. Maisie made a pact with herself to be a better friend and visit Joyce more often. She’d hate to be in the same position. Her thoughts turned to Charlie. He was a kind and loving soul and must have been heartbroken at his wife’s news. Men so far away from home must be suffering similar heartbreaks. She wondered if Cam ever received bad news from Canada. Being so far away from home must be hard.

  Once she arrived back at Holly Bush, Maisie picked up her pen and scrawled a letter to Cam. She wanted to reassure him that she was there for him, that she was still waiting for him, and he could think of her if he needed some comfort while he was away.

  Holly Bush House

  December 15th 1941

  Dear Cam,

  I have good news to share. Charlie and Joyce are having a baby! Isn’t that wonderful news? A new life is forming amid the horrors which surround us to give us all hope.

  How are things with you? All is well with me, but I’d be happier if you were here so we could chat and relax together. I light the fire and often imagine you sitting in my little cottage, cosy and warm, rather than out there fighting for your life, and for all of us really. Have I ever told you I am grateful to you for protecting us? My real-life hero jumping from planes.

  It is very sad about Pearl Harbour. I wonder what will be in store for us now.

  The day you left, I meant to tell you that an old friend of mine from the orphanage came to see me. Simon has changed. He’s not so kind-spirited as I once thought he was. It’s funny how life changes us. I used to be a timid girl and now I have the courage to do things I’d never dreamed of doing, such as kissing Canadian soldiers – well, one soldier. I mean it. Only you, Cam. I promise. I’m waiting for you.

  Take care and come home to me soon.

  Merry Christmas when it arrives.

  Maisie, with my love

  CHAPTER 17

  1942

  As pretty as the snow might look, Maisie hated how it ground everything to a halt. She trudged miles on slippery pavements and her legs ached. Charlie never made it home due to drifting mounds blocking roads, nor could the postman could make it to Holly Bush, and it was a frustration for all.

  Although this winter wasn’t as severe as the past three had been, the snow was a hiccup in Maisie’s daily life. Billy still insisted on tending his plants in the potting shed, and Maisie’s time was often spent persuading him not to freeze to death.

  Before the bad weather had set in, a letter from Captain Bloom had arrived, as well as a short one from Cam. In the warmth of her home, Maisie finished the last of her darning for the staff and patients, then opened her letter from Cam to re-read it before settling down to write one in return. She had three to post once she was able to get out to the post-box.

  Europe

  December 19th 1941

  My dear Maisie,

  I’m still alive and I have survived many experiences I would rather not repeat again. One of which is getting my leg caught in my parachute strings on a practice jump. Dangling upside down from a tree with only a squirrel for company wasn’t the best half hour I’ve ever spent.

  It is my hope you receive this letter but with the situation we find ourselves in, I won’t hold my breath.

  Should you receive it, I wish you a very merry British Christmas and send you a kiss as my gift.

  Thank you for sharing your magnificent poems. You have talent. Keep writing!

  Any news on Charlie?

  Any more news on chasing down your birth certificate? I find it a strange situation. Your life story fascinates me. Mine is mundane in comparison.

  To be fair, I’ve not a lot to write and tell you. Well, I have, but it would all be censored out.

  Please, take care of yourself and stay safe. I long for the day when we can be together again. I’m going to be bold here and put in print the words I want to say out loud.

  I love you, Maisie Reynolds. It happened faster than I’d ever expected, but there’s no denying the feelings I have for you and I know it’s a love I want to share with you. Always yours,.

  Cam

  Holly Bush House

  January 10th 1942

  Dearest Cam,

  Thank you for your last letter. It did make me giggle. Just the thought of you dangling from a tree was funny enough but to be watched by a squirrel, well that had me laughing.

  Things are not too bad here, although I have very little time to myself nowadays. Our workload has increased so much; it’s heartbreaking.

  I had a letter from Captain Bloom and she’s struggling to trace my birth certificate. I’m beginning to wonder if I ever had one – the mystery child.

  It’s a frustrating process without one though. The Red Cross is taking over Holly Bush and increasing the nursing bed capacity. Captain Bloom recommended I stay to assist the patients. She wrote a letter of reference and mentioned the difficulty with my certificate. They seemed satisfied by her letter as I’ve received the relevant forms, and confirmation approving my post as a nursing assistant.

  From what I gather, the only thing which will change is my uniform as I do everything the others do anyway. I will get to study first aid and basic nursing care. I have never thought of myself as a nurse, but I’ll get a taste of it with the Red Cross training.

  Billy, our recovering soldier, is potting on so many plants we’ll be self-sufficient with a large variety of vegetables come spring. I’ve a horrid feeling the enemy pilots will be guided to bomb us by the mass of bright flowers he has plans to plant out in the warmer weather. Keep your eyes open as you float down! It does my heart good to know I’ve helped someone find a way to escape from their nightmares. He’s not fully recovered, and will remain here for the foreseeable future, but he’s improving.

  The hard days for me are when I think about you. I worry you will be shipped back to Canada one day and I’ll never hear from you again – or if you do write, I’ll never see you. I have days where I long for your arms to hold me. I keep wondering whether there is a magic spell to make the world right again so we can be together. I look to the stars at night and make wishes. Silly I know, but it makes me happy. You make me happy. I dream of the time you stole a kiss and of those I gave back with no regret. How I’d love one of your kisses right now.

  Stay safe, my love, and don’t forget to stay out of Hitler’s way!

  Maisie

  CHAPTER 18

  ‘Ah, Maisie. Post arrived this morning. There are a couple for you,’ one of the staff members called over to her as Maisie walked past the office. She took the letters and looked at the postmarks. She noted one was from Cam and her heart skipped a beat of excitement. The other one wasn’t handwriting she recognised and carried a local postmark.

  ‘Oh, and a man named Fred Bately arrived with a bag for you,’ the staff member continued. ‘He said you’d know what it was about. Some dusty old thing. Billy’s taken it and put it in the potting shed.’

  ‘Thanks. He’s the husband of someone who used to work here. He must have found something that he thinks I should have.’

  Offering up a grateful smile, Maisie slipped Cam’s letter into her pocket to read later in peace and tore open the other.

  Maisie,

  I am sorry for being a complete buffoon at the wedding and at the cottage. I’ll be deep at sea by now and won’t be back for several months. Not only am I writing to tell you I’m sorry but also to say that I worked alongsi
de a chap who said he was from Southampton area. We got chatting and it turns out he knew us both, but I don’t remember him – Alec somebody or other. I told him about you and Jack, and he said he’s sure he came across someone several years back at naval college who mentioned having a twin in a Southampton orphanage. I asked him to hunt him out. He couldn’t remember his name but thought it might be Michael something. Anyway, I’ll not get your hopes up but thought I’d let you know.

  In my thoughts,

  Simon

  Maisie reread the letter and scrawling handwriting. It touched her that Simon had put the effort into apologising, and also that he had sent her a note about the men he mentioned. It wasn’t a letter to excite her, as so many boys had come and gone from the orphanage over the years, several sets of twins amongst them, but she thought it kind of Simon to write and tell her anyway.

  After her busy shift, Maisie stood proudly waiting for a signature to sign her off on her bandage wrapping technique. As praise was heaped upon her, Maisie realised it had never happened much in her life at all. Unsure how she was expected to respond, she thanked her tutor and smiled.

  ‘You have a good work ethic, Maisie. You think. You see something is wrong and you work it out … and you have the patience to finish it. You should be proud of yourself. It’s fine to feel a little pride for one’s achievements. Well done. Now, go home and rest. You’ve earned it.’

  Wasting no time, Maisie raced back home to change her clothes. Curiosity about the contents of Grace’s third bag and Cam’s letter called to her, and she rushed through her basic chores before tugging the bag inside. She wiped it clean and tipped out the contents.

  For a woman who’d been responsible for so many children, Gloria had very little to show for her years as Matron at Holly Bush. No pictures or letters from children settled in new homes, and not one memento from her own life.

  When she’d finished sorting through the contents of the bag, the only items remaining on the table were a key and a box. The box had once housed toiletries and had no need of a key. Several pieces of yellowing paper sat in the bottom of the box and Maisie picked her way through in the hope of finding something of use.

  Pulling out each piece, Maisie laid them on the table in the hope that they might link together in some way.

  Wicked

  Cruel

  Hopeless

  Unhappy

  The first two words she could relate to Gloria, the others to herself. But where did they actually feature in Gloria’s past? Who were they from?

  Unable to find answers, she switched her attention to the key. It was too large for a jewellery box, too small for a pantry or door. It reminded her of an office cabinet key but Maisie knew that all the cabinets belonging to the old orphanage had been sorted, emptied, and reused. She had done most of it herself.

  Putting aside the key, along with a fountain pen and ink, and a silver photograph frame, she tucked the papers inside her file and set about removing the remaining unwanted items from her home. Cam’s letter begged to be read, but Maisie wanted to be relaxed and settled before she absorbed his words.

  As she carried the last box into the storage unit behind the main building for disposal, Maisie spotted a nurse burning unusable bandages in an old drum converted into a brazier.

  ‘Rough night, Coleen?’ Maisie called out. She and Coleen had shared one or two shifts together over the past month, but they’d never had the opportunity to spend much time chatting.

  ‘Very. Jimbo had terrible nightmares again and undid a few stitches.’

  Coleen poked more bloodied bandages into the fire with a stick. Both stood silently watching the smoke spiral skywards.

  ‘He’s had it tough. Losing friends at sea, and then his family in London – three children, his wife, and mother. It doesn’t bear thinking about. I’ve my parents and no siblings, and so far they’ve been safe in the countryside with my aunt.’ Coleen chatted as they watched the fire burn itself out.

  ‘I’ve no one either. Well, that’s not strictly true. I have a twin brother, but they separated us when we were four,’ Maisie said.

  ‘Really? That’s so sad. Do you see him much?’

  ‘Never. I remained here,’ Maisie made a wide sweeping movement with her arms,’ and no one told me where he went. I tried to track him down but got nowhere. It’s sad but there’s nothing I can do about it now.’

  ‘And you never thought of leaving?’ The nurse stared at her, wide-eyed.

  ‘Often. Especially when I felt abandoned and thought no one cared. I’ll be honest with you though, since the place has changed hands, I’m doing better now than I ever was. I love what I do here. I feel part of something special.’

  ‘You’re the something special, Maisie. I’ve seen you work. You’re good with the men. A calming influence. And we love having fresh sheets on our beds without having to wonder where they came from! You work so hard, but I’ve never seen you have fun. Why don’t you ever come to the dances with us?’ Coleen asked and checked the fire.

  ‘I don’t like to ask. I’m shy in that way,’ Maisie said.

  ‘Well, stop being shy. You really have no need to be nervous of us. You’re part of the team, remember. Don’t hide away. You might meet a knight in shining armour to whisk you away.’

  ‘I have one – I think. Cam … he’s a Canadian paratrooper.’

  Coleen let out a low whistle. ‘If you’re gonna catch one, catch a good one, I always say. Good on you! You kept him quiet.’

  Maisie laughed. Coleen was bright and cheery, just the person to buoy someone up when they needed it most. Her voice lifted at each end of each sentence and Maisie asked where she came from. Loughgall, County Armagh was apparently a quaint place which grew apples, and Coleen intended to return once she’d finished battling Hitler, to make and drink cider.

  ‘We’re going to a dance over at Aldershot next month. A hall outside of barracks this time, one where the forces and locals can mix. They’ve started holding regular get-togethers, and they are such good fun. I’ll speak to the others and tell them you’re coming with us. No arguments. If your man comes home, he can come too!’

  Pushing the ash around, Coleen nodded her satisfaction.

  ‘That’s all out now,’ she said of the smouldering pile. ‘I’ll catch you tomorrow and fill you in on the dance arrangements. Take care.’

  Maisie rushed back home in high spirits. She boiled the kettle and filled her hot water bottle, tucked it under her covers, and drew the curtains. Downstairs, she made the room cosy and settled down to read Cam’s news.

  She looked over the envelope for clues of where he might be stationed but there was nothing.

  Still somewhere in Europe

  February 14th 1942

  Dear Maisie,

  How I wish I could hear your voice again and see that sweet smile. I want – no, I need to hold you in my arms and know all is well in the world. I know our friendship – relationship, call it what you will – is new but I feel I’ve been waiting for someone like you to walk into my life. The war changes our perspective on life and I’ve a clear vision of what I want when it’s over. You. I want you in my life. It’s wrong of me to ask that you wait for me, but knowing that you might keeps me going.

  Happiness is so rare nowadays and thinking of you makes me happy.

  Letters from you make me happy, and as you can probably tell, happy is the word of the day for me. That’s because we all made it home after our last mission. Usually, at least one or two don’t make it, and then we’re made to feel vulnerable once more, but this time, all my brothers came home with me and we celebrated in British style, with a cup of tea.

  Well done Captain Bloom for recognising your skills. You will be an asset to the Red Cross. I keep an image of you in my head, one where you are studying or writing poetry at your table. My busy bee.

  I promised to write to you, but I never know what to say. I feel we have a deep friendship growing, thanks to our kisses, but we kno
w so little about each other, so here’s a little more about my life in North Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada.

  Today, I think back to swimming in Deep Cove, and sailing there with my father. It’s such a great place to enjoy summer. Eating lobster and clams with my cousins on a summer evening at Granville Island is a time I’ll never capture again. Those cousins are now scattered around the world, fighting the enemy, or looking out for their own children at home.

  One of my most treasured times was when we visited an old friend of my father’s in Tofino, which is a place on Vancouver Island. Never have I felt so welcome, and my schoolboy history lessons faded into nothing when I met the men from an indigenous tribe who were so old and true to Canada. Pops would spend hours trying desperately to communicate in their native tongue, and they would tease him with wonderful humour.

  I made a summer holiday friend there, and we spent time in the waters fishing. His tribe were true Indian natives and had an incredible knowledge of living off the land and were expert whale hunters. My friend and I kept to trout fishing – much easier on the arms. Such happy relaxing days. They carved wood, and I still have a small totem pole he made for me in my room back home.

  If only mankind could get along like children do and stop trying to dominate and obliterate each other. Forgive me, I am reminiscing a lot these days, holding on to boyhood memories. Most of us are. I confess, some days I am scared, scared of what’s to come. I can only dream of the good things in life; I dream of you.

  Stay safe. I send my love in this letter.

  Happy Valentine’s Day.

  Cam

  CHAPTER 19

  ‘If we tuck it in here, and add a tie-back, it will make it like this one here.’ Maisie pointed to a magazine Coleen had brought, along with an old dress she had decided to make over. She’d come to beg Maisie to help her re-make it in a more up-to-date style.

  The two of them had already spent much of their free time together, including an evening at The Forum cinema. Coleen had introduced Maisie to the joys of new musicians and singers by insisting her gramophone, along with her collection of records, were to live in the cottage. She said it was the only place where she got the opportunity to listen to them without someone asking her to turn it off or down.