An Orphan's War

by Molly Green

  ‘You’ll have to speak to Matron.’

  And he was gone up the drive, a cloud of smoke screening the last vision of him.

  Maxine turned and stepped back into the Great Hall. How was she going to ask June if she could have some free time without being interrogated? However nice June was, Maxine was not going to give anything away. And that went for Crofton as well.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Crofton put his foot on the accelerator as soon as he was on the open road. He knew he had to leave as soon as he told Maxine he would telephone her. If he’d hung around she would have given him all sorts of excuses. Fine, if she wasn’t interested, but he was certain she was by the way she’d glanced at him several times when they were in Matron’s office and she thought he wasn’t looking. The way she became a little flustered and her cheeks turned that delicate shade of pink when he touched her, however briefly. She knew he liked her – more than liked her, and he was sure she felt the same.

  Her beautiful greeny-blue eyes fringed with the longest lashes he’d ever seen on a woman. And that thick hair like spun gold which she’d worn long and loose the two times he’d met her. Today she’d swept it up so it looked neat and professional for work and his fingers had itched to take the grips out of her cap, the hairpins from her hair, and let it fall to her shoulders. He’d wanted to bury his face in her hair, kiss her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, along her jaw to her neck, and finally those soft full lips – a mouth which seemed to him to be made for kissing.

  He didn’t know how he’d managed to hold back – not give any indication of how he was feeling. But Maxine was an enigma. There were depths in her eyes that he would probably never understand, but he wanted so badly to understand everything about her. She must have really loved her husband. How terrible to be a widow at such a young age. Just as well she hadn’t had children. Yet there seemed to be something more besides pure grief. Someone had hurt her badly – knocked the wind out of her. Maybe it had been her husband. But he didn’t think so or why hadn’t she given an indication that she was well out of it when he’d died. No, it was someone else. Maybe someone she’d met after her husband’s death who’d hurt her. The more he thought of that possibility the more he was sure of it. A ripple of anger made him want to punch the unknown swine’s nose. Crofton gave a rueful grin and shrugged. He was getting carried away – probably reading something into nothing.

  But when she smiled at him he felt on top of the world.

  Face it, Wells, you’re smitten – well and truly.

  Maxine hurried down the stairs to the ward. She’d been gone much longer than she’d expected. Hilda would be getting annoyed by now, and she needed to speak to her right away. She felt guilty that she’d almost forgotten about the photograph in the surprise of seeing Crofton in the Great Hall, standing there with an armful of toys for the children.

  ‘Hilda,’ she called softly as she entered the ward. But there was no reply.

  Where was the girl? She shouldn’t have left her so long on her own. Dear God, what if something had happened?

  ‘Sorry, Maxine, I didn’t mean to give you a fright that we’d all gone and left the children.’ June came in from the kitchen, beaming. ‘I told Hilda to go – that I’d wait for you. I must say, I liked your Squadron Leader.’

  ‘He’s not my anything,’ Maxine said a little shortly. ‘I’ve only met him a couple of times. He’s just an acquaintance.’

  ‘He seems to regard you more seriously than I think he would one of his acquaintances.’ June grinned. ‘And he was very kind to bring those toys, but it was perfectly obvious it was a good excuse to see you again …’ she broke off laughing, ‘and now I’ve made you blush.’

  ‘Only because it’s hot in here,’ Maxine said defensively. She caught June’s eyes, merrily twinkling, and couldn’t help bursting into laughter. ‘You’re making more of it than it is, you know.’

  ‘Mmm. I don’t think so, but we’ll see.’ She gave Maxine a searching look. ‘Do you know, Maxine, you haven’t laughed much since you’ve been here. Reminds me of when I first came; I didn’t feel like laughing. But you look so much more relaxed. Maybe it’s got something to do with Mr Crofton Wells.’ She grinned at Maxine. ‘Crofton. I rather like it. And it suits him. I think he’s a little bit special.’

  ‘How can you tell in such a short time?’ Maxine demanded.

  ‘Because he reminds me of Murray.’ Maxine raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh, not to look at,’ June said, ‘but his manner. And the way he looks at you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ She couldn’t breathe.

  ‘Anyone can see he’s in love with you.’

  Heat rushed to Maxine’s cheeks again. ‘How can he be? I’ve told you, this is only the third time we’ve set eyes on each other.’ She didn’t mention that time in the tram.

  ‘It didn’t take me any longer when I first met Murray,’ June said, her smile wide. ‘Nor him me, apparently.’

  ‘Do tell me how you met,’ Maxine said. Anything to change the subject, which she didn’t want to think about now. She’d ponder over June’s words later when she was in her room.

  ‘I will tell you, but it’s a long story, not how we met, but how we finally got together. It was touch and go at one point. But I must get back to Freddie. He’ll be wanting his supper.’

  ‘Can I quickly tell you about what happened today with Peter?’ She told June how he’d banged on her door earlier, and about the missing photograph.

  ‘Oh, poor little chap,’ June said, immediately serious. ‘Maybe it had slipped through the slit into the bottom of the lining, and Hilda thought he’d worry that he’d lost it. She mended the tear, and intended to return it to him and forgot. I’m sure it’s just a matter of reminding her.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s that simple.’ Maxine screwed her eyes up in thought. ‘If you’d seen Peter an hour ago you’d have been quite worried … he was distraught. I’ve seen Hilda in action myself and often wonder why you keep her on … although it’s probably none of my business,’ she added hastily.

  ‘Mr Clarke asked me to be patient with Hilda,’ June said. ‘I’ve never taken to her myself, so I completely understand how you feel. She lived with her mother, who’s a bit odd herself and not a motherly sort of woman, so I understand. Hilda’s not terribly bright, but at least Dr Barnardo’s has given her a chance. Besides, so many of the young women have joined up. There are very few to choose from the longer this war goes on.’ She paused. ‘I really think you’ll find it was a simple oversight on her part.’

  As soon as June left, Maxine realised she hadn’t asked her for permission to have a few hours off on Wednesday. Maybe it was just as well.

  June obviously liked to see the best in people, Maxine mused as she handed over the notes she’d made for Kathleen who was on night duty. Kathleen was a dear and had done ‘nights’ since Maxine arrived, and Maxine was determined that next week she would give Kathleen a turn on the day shift.

  Frustratingly, by the time she’d chatted to Kathleen it was eleven o’clock and too late to tackle Hilda. She’d have to find her first thing in the morning.

  ‘I haven’t got it,’ Hilda said, a defiant expression on her face.

  Maxine had tracked the girl down after breakfast and asked to see her. The art room was empty and she’d taken Hilda in, nodding for her to sit down at one of the tables.

  Momentarily speechless, Maxine heard her own words to Peter playing in her mind. I’ll get it back. Remember, I promised.

  ‘Where is it if you don’t have it?

  ‘I’m not telling you.’

  Maxine had to stop herself from pulling the girl to her feet and shaking her. She took in a jagged breath.

  ‘Why can’t you tell me, Hilda? You might as well, because I’ll find out … believe me.’

  Hilda’s mouth drew in a determined line.

  ‘Why didn’t you return the photograph immediately to Peter?’ Maxine demanded. Silence. ‘Hilda, please answer
me.’

  ‘Because when I showed it to someone, they didn’t give it back.’

  ‘Who has the photo, Hilda?’

  But Hilda remained tight-lipped, much to Maxine’s annoyance.

  She studied Hilda for some sign, but the girl’s face was blank. ‘For goodness’ sake, Hilda, don’t you have any idea what you’ve done? The child has lost his mother and his grandmother, and been torn away from his father, who’s probably now in a concentration camp and he’s unlikely to ever set eyes on him again. And you let his precious photograph leave your hands. It wasn’t yours to let anyone see, let alone let them keep it. So why did you?’

  Another silence.

  ‘If you don’t answer me now you could easily lose your job over this.’

  Fear spread across Hilda’s face. At least that was something, Maxine thought grimly.

  ‘Hilda,’ she said more gently. ‘What is it about the photograph that you had to show it to someone else?’

  ‘Peter’s father is a German!’ Hilda suddenly stood up and shouted. ‘He’s the enemy. And if he’s Peter’s father, then Peter Best is the enemy. And he shouldn’t be allowed in Dr Barnardo’s.’

  ‘Sit down at once, Hilda,’ Maxine ordered, taken aback by the girl’s words and the vehemence with which she said them. ‘We know nothing about Peter’s father other than he made sure his son and wife escaped to England for safety. You can’t blame him for that.’

  Hilda sat down again and stared at her.

  ‘Please tell me who has the photograph, Hilda.’

  ‘I’m going to tell Matron about the little Nazi so she gets rid of him.’ Hilda gave Maxine a challenging stare. ‘We don’t want anyone like him. You wait until the kids find out. They’ll go mad.’

  ‘Hush, Hilda, you don’t know what you’re saying. Matron and I already know about Peter. And if you dare say anything more to anyone, unless it’s Matron or me, I will personally see that it will be you who leaves Bingham Hall … not Peter.’

  ‘I’m not listening to you anymore,’ Hilda said, jumping up.

  Maxine grabbed her arm, but Hilda was a strapping girl and managed to shake her off. Hilda stormed out, swearing under her breath. If she continued to refuse to say who had the photograph, then how was Maxine ever going to find out and return it to Peter? Even more troubling was Hilda’s attitude towards an innocent child.

  ‘Are you going to tell Peter Hilda won’t say who has the photograph?’ June asked when Maxine had finished telling her what had just transpired.

  ‘I’ve already got to tell him I’ve broken my promise,’ Maxine said.

  ‘Well, you haven’t broken your promise yet.’ June gave Maxine a steady look. ‘You just can’t return it at this moment. But we’ll find where it’s gone, believe me. I’ll speak to her and see if I can get her to see sense. If you’ll stay here as well, Maxine.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Maxine said. ‘Shall I go and fetch her in?’

  ‘Please do.’

  But June had no more luck than Maxine had had.

  ‘Then I’m afraid I will have to report you to Mr Clarke,’ June told a furious Hilda. ‘And I don’t have much faith in your chances to remain here.’

  As she finished speaking, the telephone on her desk rang. Maxine’s heart jumped. Crofton had said he would telephone her this morning. If it was him, he couldn’t have picked a worse time, with Hilda glowering and June obviously in a quandary, wondering what to do for the best. It rang persistently and Maxine prayed June wouldn’t answer it. Then June’s arm stretched out to pick up the receiver.

  ‘Bingham Hall. June Lavender speaking.’

  ‘Ah, yes. I remember … She’s here, as a matter of fact, sitting right in front of me …’ She cupped her hand over the receiver and nodded for Hilda to leave. As the girl flounced out, June gave Maxine a mischievous wink. ‘It’s for you, Maxine. Your Squadron Leader.’

  Blushing to the roots of her hair, Maxine took the receiver.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s not very convenient at the moment.’ Maxine hated the sound of her voice, formal and not at all friendly, but she could hardly be otherwise with June’s eyes twinkling at her. Then June smiled and left the office.

  ‘Sorry, Crofton, there’s a lot going on here, so you’ll have to be brief.’

  ‘I wondered if you had a chance to ask your young matron for a half-day,’ Crofton’s warm voice came over the wire.

  ‘Um, well, no, I haven’t. We’ve had a bit of a crisis here and it didn’t seem appropriate to ask her.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to help?’

  ‘No, nothing,’ she said. ‘One of the children – Peter, actually.’

  ‘Ah, the little chap I met in the store. Is he in some kind of trouble?’

  ‘You might call it that.’ Oh, why had she said so much? Crofton was bound to pick up on that and ask exactly what was the problem.

  ‘Is it anything to do with him being German?’

  So he had noticed Peter’s small lapses.

  ‘Yes, but I can’t say more over the telephone.’

  ‘Maxine, please ask June if you can at least have tomorrow afternoon off because we’ll be leaving the day after. You sound awfully low and a problem shared is a problem halved.’

  ‘I’m sorry but I wouldn’t be allowed to discuss this outside the orphanage.’

  There was a silence his end.

  ‘Then I’ll have to come inside the orphanage again,’ he said, and she detected a chuckle in his voice.

  ‘Crofton, I—’

  ‘Sorry, Maxine, I’m being called.’ The line went dead.

  She clicked her tongue. She knew she’d been curt with him once again but it hadn’t seemed to put him off. He was lucky that June had taken to him. Even so, the matron still might be annoyed if he arrived with no invitation. She gave a deep sigh. Everything had begun to spiral out of control.

  Why did Hilda think that photograph was so important? Maxine wondered, as she went about her duties in the ward that afternoon. Maybe Peter’s father had signed something on the back which would immediately identify him as a Jew if the wrong person got hold of it. She shivered, desperate to put it to the back of her mind. She wished she had more to do, but the ward was very quiet with only Jimmy, who had badly twisted his ankle and needed to rest it, and Thomas, who’d managed to break his wrist in a fight.

  There was a light tap at the door and she opened it to see Judith Wright standing there looking a little sheepish.

  ‘I’m probably here under false pretences,’ Judith said. ‘Might only be a cold.’ She broke off coughing.

  ‘Any other symptoms?’ Maxine studied the teacher’s face.

  ‘My throat’s sore and nose is running … that’s why I think it’s only a cold.’

  ‘Your face is flushed so I’m going to take your temperature.’

  She took a metal chair from a small pile by the wall and gestured Judith to sit down, then put a thermometer under the woman’s tongue.

  ‘I thought so,’ Maxine said, reading off the figure. ‘A hundred and one.’ She looked up. ‘Have you noticed any other changes? Tiredness, joints aching …’

  ‘I have felt more tired than usual,’ Judith admitted. ‘My neck feels a bit swollen.’

  ‘Let me have a look.’

  Maxine gently pressed her fingers around Judith’s neck, then noticed a rash round her ear.

  ‘Right. Go upstairs, get your nightdress and toothbrush and anything else you need. I’m pretty sure you’ve got German measles and I don’t want those two to catch it.’ She nodded towards the two boys by the window. ‘We’ll have to call the doctor to verify it. Keep away from everyone. We don’t want it to spread.’

  ‘German measles? Are you sure?’

  ‘No, I’m not absolutely sure – that’s why we’re going to have the doctor look at you.’ She looked at Judith. ‘Did you have it as a child?’

  Judith shook her head. ‘No. And because I didn’t, I thought I’d
got away with it – that it was a children’s disease.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Maxine told her. ‘Anyway, we’ll soon find out for sure, but the doctor won’t be in until tomorrow morning at the earliest, and meanwhile I’m keeping you in. Luckily, I can allow Jimmy to leave as his ankle has improved enough for him to use it a little, and Thomas can manage back upstairs too. I just don’t want them to catch anything.’

  Judith disappeared to pack her bag and Maxine rang through to June. ‘I suspect Judith’s got German measles.’

  ‘Oh, no. That’s the last thing we want – an epidemic.’

  ‘The good thing is, it’s not quite so contagious as ordinary measles, but we still need to keep the children and any staff who haven’t had it away from the ward.’

  ‘Have you had it, Maxine?’

  ‘Yes, thank goodness, when I was a child. It’s always worse when you’re older. But I’m sure Judith will be all right.’

  Judith came back to the ward with her overnight bag and Maxine directed her to the bed under the window. Then at least any child who was admitted would have a bed as far away from Judith as possible.

  That evening Maxine didn’t feel like being social with anyone. Judith wasn’t an easy patient. She seemed to want to use Maxine as a recipient for all her grumbles and moans. She wasn’t sure she wanted to stay at Bingham Hall because Dr Barnardo’s wasn’t all she thought it would be; the wages weren’t good; the children were much more difficult than she was used to; she was a long way from her home in Cambridgeshire … It went on and on until Maxine’s head buzzed.

  It would be good to strip off her uniform and get out of her shoes, and put her feet up while Kathleen dealt with the woman for an hour or two. She’d write to Pearl. That would help to take her mind off things. She hadn’t answered her last letter.

  She unlocked her door and something on the floor caught her eye. A photograph. She picked it up. It was a picture of a man who looked to be about thirty. Dressed in an immaculate uniform, he stared back at her from under a peaked hat displaying an eagle and beneath … She peered at the image more closely and felt the blood rush through her veins. An unmistakeable symbol – the swastika. The same eagle and swastika was pinned on the right-hand side of his jacket. Slowly, she turned the photograph over. It simply read: SS Sturmbannführer Carl Heinrich Best.