Jenny's War

by Dickinson, Margaret

  ‘We came to London to tell you he was safe,’ Miles said, ‘but you’d gone and your neighbour didn’t know where.’

  ‘Aunty Elsie? Yes, she told me you’d been, but not until the day before yesterday. She never thought to mention it before. We’ve been back in London for a while.’

  ‘And you didn’t think to come earlier?’ Charlotte asked gently.

  ‘I wanted to – so many times – you’ve no idea, but Mum told me that it was you who’d sent me back – that you didn’t want me any more. I – I did write after I left here.’

  Charlotte gasped. ‘We never received any letters from you. And I wrote to you several times.’

  Jenny shook her head and said heavily, ‘I never got them.’

  Miles exploded with anger. ‘How could she? How could she say such a thing? And she must have intercepted the letters too. That blasted woman—’

  ‘Miles!’

  ‘Steady on, Father. She is Jenny’s mother!’

  Miles was immediately contrite. ‘I’m sorry, Jenny. I shouldn’t speak about her like that. But you’ve no idea what agonies we’ve been through wondering where you were and if you were all right. For all we knew, you might have been killed in the bombing.’

  Jenny shook her head, ‘It’s all right, but – but when I tell you where I’ve been and – and what I’ve been doing, you – you really might not want me any more.’

  The three of them stared at her in disbelief. ‘What could you possibly have done that would turn us against you?’ Miles said gently.

  Jenny bit her lip and hung her head.

  ‘Come on, you can tell us. Where’s my feisty little girl gone?’ Miles tried to lighten the mood, but, to his horror, tears filled Jenny’s eyes.

  She was so afraid to tell them and yet she couldn’t deceive these wonderful people.

  Georgie moved his chair closer to her and put his arm around her. ‘Whatever it is, Jen, you can tell us. We’ll help. Are – are you in trouble?’

  She shook her head. ‘No – no, but I could have been.’

  And then she told them everything, even down to the smallest detail. About how they’d left London in the middle of the night. All about Arthur and his thieving that had involved her. A maid whom Jenny hadn’t seen before brought in tea and Charlotte poured for all of them and handed round dainty cakes. But all the time they listened whilst Jenny spoke, haltingly at first, and then with more confidence, though she twisted her fingers together nervously.

  She knew, only too well, that her happiness could be shattered almost as soon as she’d found it again.

  Georgie’s comforting arm was around her shoulders the whole time she was telling her sorry tale and, whilst Charlotte’s face turned pale, Miles’s grew red with suppressed anger. At last, Jenny fell silent and hung her head. Then she felt Georgie squeeze her shoulders and Charlotte touch her hand. By this time, Miles was pacing the room.

  ‘They ought to be locked up – the whole lot of them.’ He was thumping his right fist into the palm of his left hand. ‘If I had my way . . .’

  Charlotte, recovering her composure, managed to smile. ‘You’re safe now, Jenny. Don’t listen to Miles ranting. He’s just getting it off his chest. He’s – ’ she glanced at Georgie, seeking agreement – ‘we’re all just so upset to hear what you’ve been through. But you’re safe now,’ she repeated it again, impressing upon her that whilst Miles would like to do goodness knew what to Arthur Osborne and the others, he would not endanger Jenny.

  Miles paused in his pacing. ‘D’you think I should – ?’

  ‘No!’ Charlotte and Georgie chorused and then Georgie added, ‘If you report any of this to the police, they’ll want to question Jenny.’

  The struggle with his conscience was evident on Miles’s face. ‘I know, but . . .’

  Jenny looked up at him. He was such a good, kind man and so honest. It wouldn’t sit well with him to keep the knowledge to himself. She stood up suddenly, Georgie’s arm falling away from her shoulders. She crossed the small space between herself and Miles and put her hand on his arm. She looked up into his face and saw the anxiety there. She didn’t want to cause Miles – or any of them – a moment’s worry. ‘I don’t want to cause you any trouble. It’d be better if I went back.’

  Miles’s response was swift and definite. ‘No.’ He put his arm around her and pulled her close. ‘Never. Not now you’re back with us, we’re not letting you go again.’ He pulled back from her a little and looked down into her upturned face. ‘You do want to stay with us, don’t you?’

  Her voice was husky as she whispered, ‘More than anything in the world.’

  Miles held her tightly as if he would, indeed, never let her go. Despite the fact that he now had his very own daughter, Jenny knew in that moment that he meant every word he’d said.

  At last, she was loved and wanted.

  Secure now in the knowledge that she was truly home, Jenny pulled Miles back to sit down again with Charlotte and Georgie. Charlotte was smiling. ‘Your room’s waiting for you. We haven’t altered a thing since you left and the nursery is waiting too, but – ’ she laughed at her own foolishness, ‘of course, you’re too big for toys now, perhaps.’

  Shyly, Jenny said, ‘Perhaps, but I’d love to play with Louisa, if – if you’d let me.’

  ‘Let you?’ Georgie laughed. ‘She’ll be thrilled to have a big sister and that’s how you must think of yourself from now on. As our much-loved sister.’

  Jenny smiled weakly at him, touched by his words, and yet the very last thing she wanted to be was Georgie’s sister.

  Fifty-Two

  After Miles had fetched Jenny’s suitcase from the station, they talked until dinner was announced by a beaming Kitty. When the servants – though at the manor they were never called that – had heard that little Jenny had come back, Mrs Beddows had immediately baked the girl’s favourite cake without sparing a thought for wartime rationing. ‘Madam won’t mind just this once,’ she said, nodding in agreement with her own statement as she beat butter and sugar into a creamy mix. Kitty smiled. She’d been allowed to keep her job at the manor because she’d volunteered to join the local ARP and had been spared being requisitioned into war work in a factory somewhere. Mrs Beddows – with Charlotte’s full approval – was relaxed about the hours Kitty worked in the house. Many times she was called in to do the night watch and came home exhausted. But, to help out, Charlotte had employed a fifteen-year-old girl from the village. Joan was willing but very shy and she scuttled back to the kitchen every time Miles or Georgie spoke to her. It had been she who’d served the tea in the morning room and had run back to the kitchen to report that someone called Jenny had arrived and that everyone seemed delighted to see her. And she was even more amazed when both Mrs Beddows and Kitty – and even Wilkins – threw up their hands in delight and went about their work with broad smiles on their faces. It wasn’t long before Jenny came to the kitchen and Joan watched with wide-eyed amazement when the newcomer flung herself into Mrs Beddows’s floury arms.

  Just before dinner, Georgie took Jenny up to the nursery, where he sat Louisa on his knee – just as he had so long ago with Jenny – and began to read her a bedtime story. Jenny sat on the rug at his feet, watching his face illuminated by the flickering firelight and falling in love with him all over again.

  As he finished reading and Louisa was already falling asleep against his shoulder, he smiled down at Jenny and murmured, ‘She’s a little young for The Wind in the Willows at the moment.’ Though she forced herself to smile back at him, Jenny felt a flash of jealousy. That book was their story – hers and Georgie’s. She didn’t want him reading it to anyone else but her. And then she realized how childish she was being. It was time to grow up. Louisa was no threat to her; she was Georgie’s half-sister.

  Over dinner, the family talked and talked and the conversation was still in full flow when they took coffee in the drawing room. Charlotte wanted to know if Jenny had been able to keep
up with her painting and Jenny blushed with pleasure when Georgie assured her that he still had all the pictures she’d done for him.

  ‘They were here waiting for me when I got home. Charlotte told me,’ he said softly, ‘that you were adamant I was still alive.’ His blue eyes held her gaze as if silently thanking her for the faith she’d had.

  When she’d heard all their news, at last Jenny brought the subject back to herself. She could still see the worried expression in Miles’s eyes and knew the honest man would never know a moment’s peace if she didn’t encourage him to do the right thing.

  She took a deep breath and said, ‘Miles, I think you’re right. We should go to the police and tell them everything.’

  She saw Charlotte and Georgie glance at each other, but for once they said nothing. Miles sighed heavily. ‘But I don’t know what the outcome will be, my dear, if we do.’

  ‘She was only a child,’ Charlotte put in softly. ‘Surely—’

  ‘But old enough to know right from wrong,’ Georgie said soberly. ‘That’s what they’ll judge her on.’

  ‘But she was helpless in the face of what her mother and Arthur Osborne ordered her to do.’

  Miles ran his hand through his hair. ‘I know, but will the police see it that way? And what about Dot?’ He glanced at Jenny. ‘We don’t want to get her into trouble.’

  Jenny shrugged, her expression hardening. ‘She wasn’t bothered about me getting caught, was she? Besides’ – she grinned ruefully – ‘Mum will wriggle her way out of it. If whoever questions her is a man, she’ll charm him so that he ends up thinking she’s been the victim in all this. And, to be honest, she didn’t do a lot. She didn’t go out at night all that often with Arthur . . .’ Her voice trailed away and she hung her head.

  ‘Do you know where Arthur is now?’

  Jenny shook her head. ‘He left when we were in Sheffield. When – when we moved in with Jim He was the butcher I told you about.’

  ‘And he – the butcher, I mean – was arrested?’

  She nodded.

  ‘So, we needn’t worry about him, then. Was there anyone else? This man she’s living with now, what’s he do?’

  ‘He’s a grocer, but he won’t have anything to do with the black market. I think he’s honest – at least in his business. When I worked for him, there was no funny business with the coupons like there had been with Jim.’ She laughed wryly. ‘The only thing he’s done is leave his wife, but I don’t suppose they can arrest him for that, can they?’

  ‘But you said he was – er – trying to get a little too friendly towards you? Wasn’t that why you went to Elsie’s?’

  Jenny bit her lip and nodded. ‘He didn’t really do anything – I didn’t give him the chance.’ She shuddered. ‘He was just – creepy.’

  ‘Then perhaps we’ll be able to keep Dot out of it,’ Charlotte said hopefully.

  ‘Not really,’ Miles said. ‘They’ll probably want to interview her.’

  ‘You needn’t worry about that if they do,’ Jenny said firmly. ‘Like I said, my mum can talk her way out of anything. As long as I never have to go back . . .’

  ‘No, never,’ they all chorused and Jenny’s eyes filled with tears of happiness and relief.

  The following day, after further discussion over breakfast, they all agreed that Miles should send for the local bobby. He came in the middle of the afternoon and was shown into Miles’s study where they were waiting: Miles, Charlotte, Georgie and Jenny. Joan was looking after Louisa in the nursery. PC Webster was everyone’s idea of a village bobby; middle aged, rotund and balding but with a kindly, smiling face that could, when necessary, turn very stern. The local youngsters misbehaved at their peril, yet each and every one of them knew that they could run to him for help at any time.

  ‘Hello, young Jenny,’ he greeted her at once as he came into the room, sat in the chair which Miles had placed for him and set his helmet carefully on Miles’s desk. ‘It’s nice to see you back. On holiday, are you?’

  ‘No,’ Miles said gently. ‘She’s back for good. Jenny’s going to live with us from now on.’

  The constable glanced around at the solemn faces before him and realized at once that he had not been called here to make a social visit.

  ‘Ah,’ he said, seeming to understand something of the reasoning behind Miles’s statement. But, as an upholder of the law in all it’s intricacies, he was obliged to ask, ‘How old are you now, love?’

  ‘Fifteen.’

  ‘Mm. And has your mam agreed to you coming to live here?’

  ‘She threw me out,’ Jenny told him and Miles added, ‘This is all part of what we have to tell you, Mr Webster. I think if Jenny tells you everything that has been happening to her since the time she left us, you will understand – and agree – that she should live with us.’

  Harry Webster nodded but he warned them, ‘I am here officially, you understand?’

  Jenny bit her lip and nodded, but still she hesitated to begin. Georgie moved his chair closer and took hold of her hand. ‘Tell Mr Webster everything, Jen, just like you told us yesterday. It’ll be for the best.’

  She looked up at him trustingly. ‘I know. I know it is, only I – I don’t want to go to prison.’

  There was a startled silence in the room.

  ‘Aw now, lass, I don’t reckon it’ll come to that, but I can’t say if I don’t know the story, can I? But whatever it is, the fact that you’re coming forward of your own free will counts very much in your favour. So, on you go, love, and don’t be frightened. Tell me everything, there’s a good lass.’

  So she told him everything, just as she had related it all the previous day. The policeman listened solemnly until the girl’s voice faded away as she ended, ‘. . . And so, when Aunty Elsie told me that Miles and Charlotte had come looking for me in London, I – I thought that Mum must have got it wrong.’ She gazed at Harry Webster. ‘They wouldn’t have come all the way to London to tell me about Georgie being alive if – if they hadn’t been bothered about me. And Aunty Elsie said she was sure they – they wanted me. They even offered to take her and her boys, she said.’ Here Jenny smiled at Charlotte and Miles. ‘She thought that was really kind.’ She turned back to PC Webster. ‘And they’d brought lots of food for me, but they gave it to Aunty Elsie. She was ever so grateful.’

  Harry Webster pretended to frown, but his eyes were twinkling as he looked at Miles. ‘Nothing contraband, I trust, Mr Thornton?’

  ‘Of course not, officer,’ Miles said, indignantly, but he, too, was smiling.

  Harry Webster turned back to Jenny, who was regarding him with her bright blue eyes and waiting, trembling a little, for his pronouncement.

  ‘Well, young lady, I don’t think I’ll be getting my handcuffs out today. It seems to me that, although you knew what you were doing was wrong, you were forced into it by your mother’s – er – friend. I can see that there wasn’t much else you could have done other than run away, you being only twelve or thirteen at the time, like.’

  ‘I did try to run away,’ Jenny said. ‘Once. I’d got my suitcase packed and a bit of money saved up and I knew where the station was. Only Uncle Arthur came home and said we were moving. And we did. We did another “moonlight”. But I was going to run away and try to get back to London. I knew Aunty Elsie would take me in. If she was still alive, that is.’

  ‘What do you mean, darling?’ Charlotte asked softly. ‘Why did you think Elsie might have – have died?’

  ‘Because of the bombing.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Charlotte blushed a little, ‘how silly of me. We saw that your house and hers had been bombed. For a dreadful moment, we thought – ’ She glanced at Miles, remembering how they’d been so fearful that Jenny had been hurt or even killed.

  ‘I am afraid, however,’ Harry was saying, ‘that my colleagues may feel they need to question your mother. Just to see if she has any idea where this Arthur Osborne might be.’

  ‘She won’t know. He’s
long gone and she’s got this other feller now.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ Harry consulted the notes he’d been making as Jenny talked. ‘Mr Jenkins. Is that right?’

  Jenny nodded.

  ‘And you’re sure there’s nothing more you want to tell me about him?’

  Jenny shook her head. ‘He never really did anything – you know – but I just didn’t like him.’

  ‘I’m sure your “feelings” were right, love. You did well to get yourself out of there.’

  ‘Will you be questioning him?’ Miles asked.

  Harry shook his head. ‘Not at the moment, Mr Thornton, but I shall report everything to my superior and he’ll take it from there. But Jenny can forget all about it now. There’ll be no further action as far as she’s concerned, I can assure you of that. Now she’s back with you, I’m sure she won’t be getting into any more scrapes, at least none that are on the wrong side of the law, that is.’ He ended with a rumbling laugh as he heaved himself out of the chair and picked up his helmet.

  When the policeman had left, his rotund form wobbling a little on his bicycle, Georgie tweaked Jenny’s nose playfully. ‘Father was right, as he usually is. Now you can forget all about it.’

  ‘I just hope Mum doesn’t get arrested.’

  ‘I don’t think for a minute she will, Jen. Like you say, she’ll talk her way out of anything and besides, rather like you, she was under Arthur’s thumb.’

  ‘I’ll find out from PC Webster how things go,’ Miles promised. ‘He’ll keep us posted about your mother, I’m sure.’

  ‘Thank goodness that’s all over,’ Charlotte said, getting up. ‘And now we have the weekend to look forward to. Felix is coming. You remember Felix, the artist, don’t you, Jen?’

  ‘I remember you talking about him, but I never met him.’

  ‘Didn’t you?’ Charlotte said in surprise. Then she wrinkled her forehead. ‘Come to think about it, I don’t think he did visit in the early years of the war.’ She smiled. ‘Too busy trying to protect his precious paintings from the bombing, I expect.’