Jenny's War

by Dickinson, Margaret

  ‘Come on.’ Arthur had the lamb in his arms, his strong hand clamped over its mouth so that it could no longer make a loud noise. But the mother sheep had struggled to her feet and was now bleating too and following them.

  ‘Run to the gate, Jen, and get ready to close it the minute I get through.’ Jenny ran ahead on legs that trembled so much they would hardly carry her. She opened the gate a little and Arthur squeezed through, carrying the lamb. Just as the mother sheep was about to put her nose through the opening, Jenny shut the gate.

  ‘Come on, we’d better hurry.’

  ‘We’re not going back past the farm, are we? What if Peg hears us?’

  Arthur chuckled. ‘Don’t you worry your head any more about the dog. She’ll be fast asleep by now.’

  Arthur was struggling to carry the lamb and keep it quiet as they retraced their steps past the farm gate and on down the lane. ‘I didn’t realize it’d be so heavy,’ he muttered, then added, cheerfully, ‘Still, all the more meat.’

  Jenny strained her eyes through the darkness, but she could neither see nor hear anything. There was no barking, no movement. As Arthur had said, Peg must have fallen asleep after her nice meal.

  The following morning, Jenny knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on her schoolwork. Not only was she very tired after her late night, but she was also very worried that Susan might somehow know what they’d been up to the night before. But Beryl and Susan didn’t seem to notice. They had other concerns on their minds. Susan came to school with red eyes. She’d obviously been crying. Beryl rushed up to her in the playground and put her arm around her shoulders. Jenny followed, feeling guilty. Her heart felt as if it was pounding in her chest. Susan must know that one of their lambs was missing.

  ‘It’s Peg,’ Susan sniffled and broke into fresh tears.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Beryl asked.

  ‘She’s – she’s died.’

  ‘Died!’ Beryl was shocked and Jenny gasped and felt the blood drain from her face. Guilt shot through her like a knife.

  ‘But she wasn’t ill, was she?’ Beryl was asking. ‘You never said.’

  Susan shook her head. ‘Dad doesn’t know why. She was fine yesterday, he said, and she’s not old.’

  ‘Is he going to take her to the vet? Get him to find out what’s happened to her?’ Beryl asked. Jenny felt a sliver of fear and held her breath, waiting for Susan’s answer.

  ‘No. Vets cost too much money. I bet your dad always says the same.’

  Beryl pursed her lips, but nodded, forced to agree.

  ‘But,’ Susan went on, and her next words brought cold dread to Jenny’s heart, ‘he reckons she might have been poisoned.’

  ‘Poisoned? How and – and why?’

  Susan shrugged. ‘You know there’s a lot of thieving going on. Dad hears the other farmers talking at the market. Oh, nothing on a grand scale, they say, but pilfering. A few chickens, a duck or two. Eggs, even animal feed.’

  Arthur. It was all Arthur’s doing. Jenny felt herself growing hot with shame and fear as Susan went on, ‘Dad reckons someone must have wanted to keep the dog quiet so they probably gave Peg some poisoned food.’

  Beryl stared at her friend, shocked and upset. Tears welled in her eyes too now. Jenny didn’t know what to say or do. She wanted to run, out of the playground, away from the school – as far away as possible. How could he? How could Arthur have done such a terrible thing as to poison the Gordons’ dog?

  At that moment, as Jenny stood by, watching her two friends who would no longer be her friends if they knew the truth, the bell went for the beginning of school. They trooped into the classroom and sat together in their usual places in the back row, Beryl in the middle with the other two on either side of her.

  The lessons drifted over Jenny’s head and several times the teacher spoke sharply to her, telling her to pay attention or to repeat something she’d just said. Jenny couldn’t; she hadn’t been listening because she was too busy with her own thoughts. The tiredness had left her but her powers of concentration, usually so good because she enjoyed school, had completely deserted her.

  ‘Jenny Mercer, you will stay in detention after school tonight,’ the teacher said at last, her patience exhausted. Beryl touched Jenny’s arm sympathetically. ‘We’ll wait for you,’ she whispered.

  Jenny smiled thinly and tried to apply herself to the history lesson. It wouldn’t do to get hauled out to the teacher’s desk at the front of the class and to be asked awkward questions. If that happened, she’d cry, she knew she would.

  They were still waiting for her when the teacher finally let her go with the warning that she’d better try harder the next day or she’d be sent to the headmaster.

  Beryl linked her arm through Jenny’s. ‘Come on, let’s go to mine. It’s baking day.’ It had become a regular routine that the three girls would go straight to the kitchen of Honeysuckle Farm after school on Mrs Fenton’s baking day.

  ‘No, sorry,’ Jenny said. ‘I’d best get home. Mum’ll be wondering where I’ve got to.’

  Both Beryl and Susan glanced at her. ‘You don’t normally worry about telling your mam where you are,’ Beryl said, frowning. ‘You stay ages at mine sometimes after school.’

  Jenny bit her lip. She didn’t want to go to Beryl’s and certainly not to Susan’s. She wanted to get home and run up to her bedroom and bury her face in her pillow. But she couldn’t tell them that. Suddenly, she realized how weak she was becoming. She’d allowed Arthur and her mother to push her into crime. Young though she was, she should have fought them. She shouldn’t have gone along with it. Georgie wouldn’t recognize her now. At the thought of him, tears filled her eyes.

  ‘What’s up?’ Beryl asked bluntly.

  ‘I – I just feel for Susan, that’s all.’ It was the truth, but the other two girls didn’t understand the full story. Jenny hoped they’d never find out. ‘I – I never had a pet. It’s difficult, living in the city, you know. So I can only guess how you must feel losing Peg. She – she was a lovely dog.’

  ‘She was more than a pet,’ Susan said, ‘she was a valuable working dog. My dad’s going to be lost without her helping to round up the sheep. She’d won prizes, you know.’

  Jenny had thought she couldn’t feel much worse, but she did now.

  The three girls walked along in silence until they came to the cottage. ‘You coming then, or not?’

  ‘No – not tonight. Thanks.’ Jenny turned and ran through the open gate and down the grass track leading to the cottage. With a shrug Beryl linked her arm with Susan’s and they walked on, their heads bent close together.

  Jenny glanced back. She was sure they were talking about her. It was the first time she’d ever refused an invitation to go to the Fentons’ farm, the first time she’d ever shown any anxiety to get home.

  Had it been a mistake? Would the girls wonder why? But she had to get home. She had to talk to Arthur.

  She burst into the cottage, but it was silent and empty. There was no one there. Only then did she realize that the van had not been parked in its usual place.

  Jenny closed her eyes and groaned aloud.

  Thirty-Six

  Jenny ran upstairs. The decision she’d made last night up near the quarry came back to her. She was going. Running away. She wasn’t going to stay with her mother and Arthur a moment longer. She refused to take part in any more thieving and creeping about in the dark poisoning dogs. She shuddered afresh as she thought that it was her fault that Peg was dead. She’d given the poor dog the meat – though, of course, she’d had no idea it had been poisoned. It had never even crossed her mind that it might have been drugged to put the animal to sleep – or worse. She’d just thought that Arthur was trying to keep the dog quiet by giving it a nice, satisfying meal.

  She dragged the suitcase off the top of the wardrobe and flung her clothes off their hangers, bundling them into the case. Then her shoes and, on top of everything, her sketch pad and pencils. She wasn’t
going anywhere without those. Lastly, the ever-faithful Bert was squashed in. Just as she hauled the heavy case off the bed, she heard sounds from below. Arthur and Dot were back. Now, she’d have to wait until dark before she could sneak out. And if Arthur had other plans . . .

  ‘Jenny, are you in? Come down here this minute,’ Dot was shouting up the stairs. Jenny bit her lip. Her mother sounded angry. Now what was up? Had they seen her teacher and been told that she’d been inattentive in class and kept in detention? But she dismissed the thought almost as soon as it entered her head. Dot had never been bothered about her daughter’s schooling and was never likely to be. If, somehow, the teacher had seen her, Dot would merely smile, shrug and fluff her blond hair. She wouldn’t give a damn. No, this was something else. For a moment, Jenny stood still, thinking. She squared her jaw. She was going, she didn’t care what they said. She wouldn’t tell them, but the very first night when Arthur went on duty in the city as warden, she would be off.

  She pushed the suitcase under the bed and hurried downstairs. Best not to annoy her mother any more.

  Dot’s first words surprised her so much, Jenny’s mouth dropped open. ‘Get yer case packed. We’re leaving.’

  ‘Wha – ? Why?’

  ‘He’s gone one step too far. Silly bugger. Not that I want to stay here, mind. I hate it, but Gawd knows where we’ll go now.’

  Jenny moved closed. ‘What’s happened?’

  Dot sighed and sat down at the table, resting her elbows on its surface and dropping her head into her hands. At that moment, Arthur came into the room, his face grim and Jenny repeated her question, since her mother was making no effort to answer her.

  ‘Nothin’. Yer mum’s panicking over nothin’.’

  Dot lifted her head. ‘You call the gossip in the local market, nothin’?’

  Arthur shrugged. ‘No one can prove anything. I’ve got rid of everything.’

  ‘Even the – the lamb?’ Jenny stammered.

  ‘Yeah. Took it to Sheffield to the butcher I know this morning. Very pleased, he was. Gave me a good price an’ all.’ His grin widened as he winked at Jenny. ‘We’ll have to try that again, Tich.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Jenny shouted, her vehemence surprising even her. It was the first time she’d stood up to Arthur and, despite the fear of what might follow, it felt good. ‘I’m never going out thieving with you again.’

  Arthur frowned and Dot raised her head and stared at her daughter. Jenny glanced from one to the other as she said slowly and deliberately, ‘I didn’t realize that meat you gave me for Peg was poisoned. Susan’s dog is dead, Uncle Arthur.’ She laid stress on the name to emphasize that her acquiescence in all his schemes was over. She would never call him ‘Dad’ again. He took a step towards her and for a moment she felt a quiver of fear, but she stood her ground and glared at him. She’d thought he was about to strike her, he looked so angry, his fists clenched at his sides, but suddenly his mood changed and he tried to wheedle his way around her. ‘Now look ’ere, Tich, you’re a big help to me, you are. Don’t go all soft on me. Not now.’

  ‘I’m not doing it any more,’ Jenny shouted. ‘I don’t kill dogs.’

  Dot sprang up. ‘Keep yer voice down. If someone hears you . . .’ She glanced at Arthur and took her cue from him. Slaps and punishments weren’t going to solve this one. Jenny could be a hard little madam when she wanted to be. No, Arthur was right. They’d have to cajole her. But being nice didn’t come naturally to Dot.

  ‘Look, darlin’. Like I said, we’re getting out of here. Going somewhere new.’

  ‘No, we’re not, Dot,’ Arthur snapped. ‘Not yet. It’ll look suspicious. Jen’s got to keep going to school and we’ve got to carry on as normal.’

  ‘Normal?’ Jenny was still shouting at them both. ‘You call the way we’re living “normal”? Well, I don’t. The way Charlotte and Miles live, that’s normal. This isn’t, this—’

  She got no further for, unable to restrain her temper any longer, Dot raised her hand and slapped Jenny hard across the face. ‘You cheeky little bugger. You’ll do as you’re told and don’t you dare mention them folks again. You hear me? If they were so bloody wonderful, why didn’t they keep you then? I’ll tell you why. ’Cos they didn’t want a dirty little thief like you, that’s why.’

  ‘I wasn’t a thief. Not until he’ – she jabbed her finger at Arthur – ‘made me into one.’

  Although her cheek was stinging and turning red, Jenny wasn’t going to give her mother the satisfaction of knowing she’d hurt her. And she wasn’t backing down either.

  ‘Look,’ Arthur said, trying to placate them, trying desperately to keep them both on his side. He couldn’t lose Jenny’s help; she was too valuable. ‘It’ll all be all right. I’m on duty tonight and tomorrow night in the city and—’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Jenny sneered, throwing all caution to the wind. ‘And you’ll come home with a van full of stuff you’ve looted from folks’ bombed-out houses, I suppose.’ Suddenly, she felt so much older than her years. Older and wiser even than the two adults standing before her. How could they be so stupid, so wicked? Well, she wasn’t having any further part in it.

  ‘No,’ Arthur said quietly. Shouting and slapping wasn’t going to win this stubborn kid over. As he gazed at her mutinous little face, he realized what a little beauty she was turning into. Despite the wartime rationing, which, thanks to him, hadn’t affected them much, at almost thirteen Jenny was filling out in all the right places. In a year or two, she’d be a stunner. He shook the thoughts out of his head, bringing himself back to the present. ‘I promise I won’t do nothin’ tonight.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll be a good lad and then, in a day or two, or maybe a week or so, when all the hoohah has died down, we’ll move on.’

  ‘And what if it doesn’t die down? What if the police or someone comes knocking? What about all the stuff you’ve got stacked in the barns? The petrol? And the extra food on Mum’s pantry shelves? How are yer going to explain all that away, eh?’

  Arthur’s grin widened. ‘All gone. Well, all that can’t be explained anyway.’

  ‘How?’ Jenny demanded suspiciously. ‘How’ve you got rid of everything?’

  ‘Been running about all day like a couple of scalded cats,’ Dot put in crossly. ‘Backwards and forwards. It’s a wonder we haven’t got stopped and asked where we’re getting all the petrol from. I’m shattered.’

  ‘I’m an ARP warden, aren’t I?’ Arthur smirked. ‘Doing valuable war work.’

  ‘What about the chickens and the ducks?’ Jenny was still worrying. There were now quite a few more in the pen in the back garden than ever Arthur had bought legitimately.

  ‘When we’re ready to go, I’ll take them to the butcher in the city. We can start up again somewhere else.’

  ‘Not with me, you won’t.’

  ‘Don’t talk daft, Jenny. You’ve got to stay with us. Where do you think you’re going to go?’ Dot said and added with a sneer, ‘Reckon you’re going to run back to them marvellous Thorntons, do yer? Well, I wouldn’t hold yer breath.’ Her voice rose. ‘I’ve told you till I’m blue in the face, they don’t want yer.’

  ‘Then I’ll go back to London. I can stay with Aunty Elsie. She’ll let me—’

  ‘No, she won’t. An’ you’re not going nowhere near London, so there. You’ll have the coppers on to us in no time.’

  ‘No, I won’t, ’cos I won’t know where you are, will I?’

  ‘They’d wheedle it out of you that we was in Derbyshire. They’d soon come looking.’

  The wrangling went on for an hour.

  ‘Look, we’ve nothin’ to worry about now. Even if anyone does come snooping round,’ Arthur said again, ‘they’re not going to find anything. Like I say, Jen, you go to school for a few more days. Act normal and then by next week, we’ll be off.’

  Jenny glowered at him, more because she was feeling the trap closing in on her again. If only she’d made her escape before they’d come home. She had a little
money saved up from whenever Arthur had been feeling generous, as he sometimes was when she’d been particularly helpful. She could have been on her way to the station by now and buying a ticket to London.

  Now she closed her mind to hopes of ever going back to Lincolnshire. Dot was so vehement that the Thorntons didn’t want her, it must be true.

  But the final acceptance of her mother’s words lay like a leaden weight in her chest.

  Thirty-Seven

  ‘One of our lambs has gone missing,’ Susan announced at school the following morning. Jenny bit her lip, held her breath and waited. ‘Dad reckons it happened the same night as Peg died. He’s going to take her to the vet and get him to find out if she had been poisoned.’

  Jenny tried to swallow the lump of fear rising in her throat.

  ‘Yeah and we lost two chickens last week.’ Bruce Porter lived at a farm on the opposite side of the village; the farm Arthur and Jenny had visited one night the previous week.

  ‘We’d never have known,’ the boy went on. ‘Dad says they’re crafty blighters, whoever’s doing it, ’cos they only take one or two.’

  ‘How did you know, then?’ Beryl asked. ‘’Cos your dad’s got thousands of chickens.’

  Bruce grinned. ‘Not quite. Hundreds, mebbe. Thing was, Dad’s got a favourite speckled hen – the only one we’d got – and that’s one of the ones they took. So when he saw she was missing, he counted ’em, and we’ve lost two.’

  ‘Could’ve been a fox,’ someone suggested but Bruce shook his head. ‘No, you know what foxes is like. Kill half a dozen and then only take one away. And there’s always feathers around and that. No, it wasn’t a fox.’

  ‘The grocer in the village reckons he’s lost some sugar an’ a lot of other stuff as well,’ Rosie, Bruce’s younger sister, put in. ‘He was telling Mam the other day that there was several things gone from the back of his shelves in the storeroom. He reckons it’s been gone for a bit, but he never noticed till he came to want it. And then he hadn’t got as much as he thought he had – as much as he should have had. He checked his – what do they call them, Bruce?’