The Runaway Children

by Sandy Taylor

  Robert put his arm around me and I leaned into him. His coat was rough against my cheek. I knew that I would never see him again but I was glad that I was here with him on this special night. I closed my eyes and prayed that he would make it through the war and return safely home to his loved ones.

  Chapter Forty

  In between frying eggs and bacon, Mrs Wright was glued to the wireless. One morning in March she informed us that Montgomery’s men were crossing the Rhine.

  ‘Monty says that the battle is going very well,’ she said, as if she’d just spoken to him on the telephone.

  Everyone was feeling hopeful that the war was finally coming to an end. The home guard had been disbanded and, as Mrs Wright said, ‘That’s telling us something, isn’t it?’

  ‘Can’t count our chickens yet, though,’ Mrs Baxter warned. ‘Wars are tricky things.’

  Olive nodded in agreement. ‘So are boys,’ she added very seriously, dipping soldiers into her boiled egg.

  ‘Having trouble with Henry, are you?’ asked Mrs Baxter.

  ‘Not exactly trouble,’ said Olive. ‘But he keeps wanting to play kiss chase and his breath smells of pickled onions. Henry has a thing about pickled onions. His mum told me not to worry as he has eaten just about every pickled onion in the house and she isn’t going to pickle any more until next Christmas.’

  ‘Best give him a wide berth at Christmas then,’ I said, grinning.

  ‘I intend to,’ said Olive. ‘And when Henry gets married I shall warn his wife not to pickle any onions.’

  ‘Very good advice,’ said Mrs Baxter, looking fondly at Olive.

  I missed my family but living with Mrs Wright and Mrs Baxter had been like having two mothers who truly cared for us. I would never forget their kindness to me and Olive. They couldn’t have loved us more if we’d been their own.

  Jean had said goodbye to Eric and we all tried our best to keep her spirits up. She was being very brave and I was so proud of her.

  ‘I know he’ll be all right, Nell, I just know he will.’

  ‘Of course he will,’ I said. ‘He’s got you to come home to now.’

  ‘I’m glad you made your peace with Robert before he went.’

  ‘I am too, and it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.’

  ‘If Robert hadn’t been married I think it would have been a different story. Eric said that he had grown very fond of you and it had given him many a sleepless night.’

  ‘But he was married, wasn’t he? And I can’t think about what might have been. Anyway, I’m a great believer in things working out the way they are supposed to, and Robert and I were not supposed to be together. And that, my friend, is that.’

  ‘I had a letter from Eric and Robert asked him to pass his love on to you.’

  ‘Are they friends again now then?’

  Jean nodded. ‘I thought they would be, I think their friendship is pretty strong.’

  ‘I’m glad, I felt a bit guilty about it.’

  ‘You have nothing to feel guilty about, it was his own silly fault. I just hope he learned his lesson.’

  ‘Oh, I think he did.’

  ‘I bet he doesn’t tell his poor wife though. I’d never forgive Eric if he did that to me.’

  ‘Eric wouldn’t do that to you, Jean.’

  ‘I bet that’s what Robert’s wife thought.’

  * * *

  Winter gave way to a spring that was welcomed in like a returning hero. The days were longer and the evenings warmer. Birds fluttered amongst the branches of the trees and everywhere there were signs of new life, a renewal, a new beginning. People seemed to walk with a spring in their step and hope in their hearts. Flowers bloomed in parks and gardens – they sprung up between potatoes and carrots as if to say, What the world needs now is food for the soul, not the belly. Yellow daffodils, purple crocuses and multi-coloured tulips vied with each other to be the best, the brightest, the most glorious. Tight buds clung to the branches, ready to burst into life.

  There had been other springs but none that brought with them such a feeling of hope and new beginnings; none that stirred the heart like this one did.

  Holidaymakers started returning to the town and Sea View became alive again. Tape was peeled from the windows and new curtains hung with great pride.

  Miss Timony decided that Sea View needed a facelift.

  ‘It’s time for a new beginning,’ she declared. ‘And new beds and sofas will reflect that.’

  As far as I could see, the beds were perfectly fine and so were the sofas. I didn’t think that Sea View needed a facelift at all. I loved the old-fashioned cosiness of the guest house. There had been so many changes in my life in the last few years that I couldn’t get excited about this one.

  ‘Well, if Miss Timony feels the place needs a facelift I’m more than happy to go along with it,’ said Mrs Wright.

  ‘Mrs Baxter won’t have to get rid of Mr Baxter’s wooden leg, will she?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think that comes under “soft furnishings”, Olive.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief. I’ll let her know, in case she’s worrying about it.’

  ‘You do that, my love.’

  We all took turns meeting the new arrivals off the trains and escorting them to the guest house. One day Mrs Wright asked me to meet some guests who were arriving on the four o’clock train.

  ‘Take Olive with you,’ she said. ‘There are children arriving and I think it would be nice for her to meet them.’

  ‘What about Henry?’ I asked.

  ‘I think just you and Olive would be best – we don’t want to overwhelm them, do we?’

  I picked Olive up from school and we walked to the station.

  ‘Are the children my age?’ asked Olive, skipping along beside me.

  ‘I don’t know, Olive, Mrs Wright just said there were children.’

  ‘I hope there’s someone of my age. How old am I now, Nell?’

  ‘You know how old you are, Olive. Mrs Wright baked you a cake with nine candles on it.’

  ‘I was just checking… Nell?’

  ‘Yes, love?’

  ‘Did I get a birthday card from Mummy?’

  I crossed my fingers behind my back. ‘There’s no birthday cards until the war is over, it’s the law.’

  ‘Okay, Nell.’

  We arrived at the station early, so I bought two bags of Smith’s crisps and we sat on a bench to eat them. The crisp packets had little paper bags inside them that were filled with salt. You had to tear open the bag, then shake it hard so that all the crisps were covered in salt. Olive shook her bag so violently that half the crisps burst out of the top and scattered all over the station floor.

  ‘Here, share mine,’ I said, offering her my bag.

  ‘Thanks, Nell, I don’t know how that happened.’

  ‘You shook them too hard, that’s how it happened.’

  ‘Blame Henry – that’s what he does.’

  ‘Well, tell him not to.’

  ‘Okay, Nell.’

  Once we’d finished the crisps we put the empty bags in the bin and walked across to the barrier.

  ‘How are we supposed to know who we’re meeting?’ asked Olive, staring up the platform.

  ‘Mrs Wright gave me a piece of paper with “Sea View” written on it – we have to hold it up.’

  ‘Can I hold it up?’

  ‘Of course you can, but make sure it’s the right way up.’

  ‘I’m not daft, Nell.’

  I smiled at her. ‘I know you’re not,’ I said, getting the paper out of my pocket and handing it to her.

  ‘How come we’ve never held up a piece of paper before?’

  ‘Mrs Wright said she saw another guest house doing it and she thought it was classy.’

  We heard the sound of a train in the distance. There was a high-pitched whistle as it came nearer, then it shuddered and slowly screeched to a halt, belching out thick white smoke. Porters rushed past us, pushing two-wheeled t
rolleys.

  ‘Okay, Olive,’ I said, ‘hold up the paper.’

  There was a whirl of activity and noise as the train doors opened and slammed shut; people climbed out, stepping down onto the platform, passing bags and suitcases to the porters. Olive and I stood together, waiting for the smoke to clear. Then we scanned the faces of the people hurrying towards the barrier.

  ‘Is that them?’ said Olive, pointing to a family with three children.

  She held up the paper but the family walked straight past us without so much as a glance.

  More people passed us and then, as if in slow motion, I watched as a tall, thin boy helped a woman down from the train. She was holding the hand of a smaller child. I couldn’t move. Tears poured down my face and then a scream tore from my throat: ‘MUMMY!’

  Olive clung to my skirt. I grabbed hold of her hand and started running up the platform. Tony got to me first and we clung to each other, laughing and crying. Mum had Olive in her arms, a much bigger Olive than the last time she had held her, and she smiled at me over the top of my little sister’s head. I walked towards her as she put Olive down.

  ‘My Nell,’ she said, smiling – that smile that I had kept in my heart all these years and sometimes feared that I would never see again – but here she was, she had come back to us. Our arms went around each other and I breathed in the smell of home. I’d grown taller than Mum; her head was tucked under my chin. I wasn’t a little girl anymore but in her arms that’s how I still felt. I looked into her eyes and touched her hair; I couldn’t believe it was really her. Freddie was tugging on my skirt. I wiped away my tears and knelt down in front of him. ‘Hello, Freddie,’ I said. ‘I’m your big sister.’ He stared at me, then hid behind Mum’s skirt.

  I turned to Olive. ‘Do you remember Freddie, Olive?’

  Olive frowned. ‘Was he that thing in the drawer?’

  ‘That’s right, but he was a baby, not a thing,’ I said, smiling.

  Tony grinned. ‘You’re right, Olive, he was a thing and a very noisy thing at that!’

  We were all laughing except Olive, who was standing very close to me and holding my hand tightly. I looked down at her and saw that she was crying.

  ‘What’s wrong, darling?’ I asked.

  ‘What about the people we were supposed to be meeting, the ones with the children?’

  I took a hankie out of my pocket and gently wiped her eyes. ‘Mrs Wright and Mrs Baxter played a trick on us – they knew we were meeting Mummy. It was a surprise, Olive, a wonderful surprise.’

  Tony ruffled her hair and tried to lift her up but she pulled away from him.

  ‘She’ll come round,’ I said. ‘She just needs a bit of time.’

  ‘We have all the time in the world,’ said Mum. ‘All the time in the world.’

  I was so busy seeing to Olive that I didn’t notice the tall man with the ginger beard walking towards us.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Olive held my hand all the way home.

  Freddie was on Tony’s shoulders. Daddy and I kept smiling at each other. My heart was so full I could hardly breathe.

  ‘Don’t you want to hold Mummy and Daddy’s hands?’ I asked Olive.

  She shook her head.

  When we got back to the guest house there was a banner across the door saying WELCOME HOME and Mrs Wright and Mrs Baxter were standing underneath it, smiling and dabbing at their eyes. We were ushered into the house amid much laughter and tears. Olive hung back, looking sad and worried.

  ‘Do you mind if me and Olive go for a little walk?’ I said.

  Mum smiled and said, ‘You go.’

  Tony stood up as though he wanted to join us but I shook my head and he smiled as if he understood.

  We walked down to the seafront. The sea was so calm it looked like a sheet of glass, glistening right out to the horizon.

  We sat quietly on a bench holding hands and then Olive spoke.

  ‘Who’s that man, Nell?’

  She didn’t remember him. It just hadn’t entered my head that Olive wouldn’t remember her daddy but, of course, why would she? She was only four years old when he went to war. I should have spoken about him, kept his memory alive in her head, but it just hadn’t occurred to me that she would forget someone as big and strong and wonderful as her daddy.

  I put my arm around her shoulder. ‘He’s your daddy, Olive, don’t you remember him at all?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Well, he’s the bestest, kindest daddy in the whole world and he loves you very much. He used to work on the docks and I would wheel you down to the river in your pram to give him his lunch. You were such a beautiful baby, Olive, everyone used to say how beautiful you were and it made your daddy so proud – he loved to show you off to the other dockers. You are a lucky girl to have such a lovely daddy.’

  ‘He sounds nice but I still don’t remember him, Nell.’

  ‘That’s because he was in the Navy fighting the war. Don’t you remember him at all?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Never mind, you have lots of time to get to know him and love him, and you will, Olive, I promise you will, so don’t worry about it. It will just happen without you doing a thing.’

  ‘I remember Tony though, but he was smaller. He jumped off the train and went home, didn’t he? Cos he was a little bugger!’

  I laughed. ‘That’s right, he did and he was a little bugger! He may be taller but he’s still Tony and I expect he’s still a little bugger. And that baby in the drawer is your brother Freddie and you’re his big sister.’

  Olive didn’t answer me – she seemed lost in thought and that was okay. I could hardly believe myself what had just happened and for my little sister it must be even harder. We hadn’t seen our family in three years and Olive had only been five when we’d left Bermondsey. She was going to need time to get used to things and, funnily enough, so was I. I had cared for my little sister since the moment Tony had got off the train and left us alone. That responsibility wasn’t mine anymore and I suppose it should have been a relief, and yet somehow it wasn’t. What should have been the happiest day of our lives was leaving us both feeling worried and confused. I smiled down at Olive.

  ‘Everything is going to be fine,’ I said.

  ‘But are you sure that man is my daddy, Nell?’

  ‘I’m absolutely sure.’

  ‘I think Henry will be surprised, because I told him that I didn’t have a daddy.’

  ‘Oh, Olive, you’ve always had a daddy!’

  ‘But I didn’t know that.’

  ‘I’m sorry, love. You should have spoken to me about it.’

  ‘I think you were too busy running away and sleeping in barns and getting locked in bedrooms and bashing people over the head with shovels to worry about whether or not I had a daddy.’

  ‘You do make me laugh, Olive.’

  ‘I guess that’s better than crying, Nell.’

  ‘I guess it is.’

  ‘Can Henry come to tea and meet my new daddy?’

  ‘Of course he can, he can come to tea any old time he likes.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Are you ready to go home now?’

  Olive nodded. ‘I need to tell Auntie Missus.’

  ‘Of course you do.’

  ‘I bet Mrs Wright has baked one of her cakes too.’

  We walked hand in hand back to the guest house. We all had a story to tell and I couldn’t wait to hear Mum and Dad’s too.

  * * *

  Mrs Wright and Mrs Baxter had put on a delicious spread and we all tucked into it. Tony, as usual, was eating as if he’d never seen food before.

  After we’d eaten, Mrs Wright and Mrs Baxter left us alone.

  ‘We’ll leave you to talk,’ said Mrs Baxter, smiling at us.

  ‘We owe you both so much,’ said Mum. ‘We can never thank you enough for taking care of our girls.’

  Mrs Baxter’s eyes filled with tears. ‘They’ve been angels,’ she said, h
urrying out of the room.

  ‘We’re going to miss them,’ said Mrs Wright, following her sister.

  I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. ‘We’re not going back to Bermondsey, are we?’ I asked.

  ‘No, the council have given us a house in Hove – isn’t it wonderful?’

  ‘What, all of us?’ I said.

  ‘All of us,’ said Daddy.

  Olive stared at me; she had a panicked look on her face. ‘NO!’ she screamed. ‘I have to stay here, I can’t leave Henry and Auntie Missus doesn’t want to move. Tell them I’m not going with them, Nell, tell them.’

  There was a stunned silence in the room as everyone stared at Olive, whose little body was shaking with anger.

  ‘But this isn’t our home, Olive,’ I said gently. ‘We can be with our family now.’

  Olive jumped up from the table, tears rolling down her cheeks. She glared at Mum. ‘I won’t go, I won’t and you can’t make me.’

  Little Freddie’s bottom lip was quivering – he knew that something was wrong – but it was the look on Mum’s face that tore at my heart. Dad shook his head and held her hand. ‘Give her time, Kate, this must all be very confusing for her.’

  Olive had fled from the room. ‘I’ll talk to her,’ I said, going after her.

  This was awful; this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. My heart went out to Mum and Daddy. I’m sure this wasn’t what they had been expecting either. I went into the kitchen, where Mrs Baxter and Mrs Wright were sat drinking tea. ‘Have you seen Olive?’

  ‘Isn’t she with you?’ asked Mrs Baxter.

  I sat down next to them and put my head in my hands. ‘She’s refusing to go to the new house. She was really rude to Mum, I feel awful.’

  ‘I told you the shock would be too much for them to take,’ said Mrs Wright. ‘But would you listen? No, you wouldn’t.’

  ‘Oh dear, I was wrong, wasn’t I? You always did have more sense than me, Mary.’