Audrey put the bag away again, having no intention of offering her sweets to the boys. They didn’t appear to be taking much notice anyway. They were involved in a loud conversation, more of a shouting match, about how many trains they had been on in their lives, and the places they had visited. Scarborough, Filey, Bridlington, Blackpool; even somewhere called Skegness, and the Isle of Man. They sounded like experienced travellers to Maisie, but when she heard the names of London, Paris and Rome she guessed they might be showing off. More likely they had been learning capital cities in a geography lesson.
She hadn’t been on a train for ages. She sucked her sweet – you couldn’t talk anyway with such a large sweet in your mouth – and gazed out of the window. They had soon left the city centre and the rows and rows of houses and factories behind and were in the country. How quiet and peaceful it all looked after the noise and bustle of the big town and the crowded station. Maisie feasted her eyes on the lush greenness of the fields and trees and vast stretches of hillside. There were sheep grazing on the slopes of the hills near to large boulders of rock. Maisie knew that these were limestone, the stone from which these hills, the Pennines, had been formed millions of years ago. So long ago that you could not take it in; they had learned that at school.
She knew, too, about the art of drystone walling, a craft passed down through the generations of Yorkshire farming folk, and here the fells were criss-crossed with drystone walls. The lonely cottages and farmhouses were also built of greystone, but there were splashes of colour too from the golden gorse bushes and the purple sweep of the heather, now starting to turn brown in places with the changing of the season. In the far distance she glimpsed a ruined castle on a hill.
When they had passed through the station at Skipton – Maisie recognised that name – Miss Mellodey came into their compartment to check that everyone was all right.
‘Hello, boys. OK, are we?’ she asked. ‘That’s good.’
‘Yes, Miss Mellodey,’ they chorused. Maisie guessed they were in her class, or had been last term.
‘Now, let me see…I’ve noticed you two girls at school, of course, but I don’t know your names. You are…Audrey. Hello, Audrey. And you are…’ Miss Mellodey looked carefully at the label. ‘…Maisie. Hello, Maisie.’ She smiled at both the girls in turn; her lovely blue eyes were so warm and friendly that Maisie was quite taken aback. All she could do was nod and whisper a tiny little, ‘Hello…’
‘Please, Miss Mellodey; she used to be called Nellie,’ chimed in Audrey, to Maisie’s great surprise. ‘That’s what we always called her, but she’s decided that she wants to be called Maisie instead.’
‘Shurrup, you!’ Maisie dug her elbow into her new friend’s side, and not too gently either.
Miss Mellodey laughed. ‘Well, I think she’s quite right, don’t you, Audrey, to choose her own name?’ She turned to Maisie, then glanced again at her name tag and nodded. ‘Eleanor May. Yes, I see. They’re both such beautiful names. It’s a shame to shorten it to Nellie. But Maisie is…just right.’
‘Thank you, Miss Mellodey,’ breathed Maisie. At that moment she felt as though she would have done anything, anything at all for this lovely kind-hearted lady. She would be her willing slave for evermore.
‘Please miss, can we eat our butties?’ asked one of the boys. ‘We’re starving!’
‘Yes, I don’t see why not.’ Miss Mellodey smiled again. She was a very smiley sort of person. ‘In fact I suppose it might be a good idea for you all to eat your sandwiches, if you’ve brought any. It may not be all that long before we arrive.’
‘Why, where are we going, Miss?’
‘Aw go on, tell us…’ The boys started up a barrage of questions.
‘Is it Scarborough, miss?’
‘Is it Blackpool, miss?’
‘Don’t be such a barmpot, Bobby! ’Course it’s not Blackpool! Blackpool’s miles away, in t’ other direction, i’n’t it, miss?’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ agreed the teacher. ‘We’re heading north, and Blackpool’s just as far as you can go to the west… I don’t suppose there’s any harm in telling you now – I’ve only just found out myself – that we’re going to Middlebeck.’
‘Middlebeck? Where the heck’s that?’
‘It’s a little market town in the northern Yorkshire Dales,’ said Miss Mellodey. ‘I must admit I’ve never been there myself, but I’m sure it will be a very nice place, surrounded by this lovely countryside.’ She waved her hand at the view through the window.
They were now passing through a somewhat stark landscape of high bare hills, more grey-brown than green, lacking in trees and the verdant pasture land they had seen earlier. ‘Er…not quite like this, of course,’ she added hurriedly. ‘It’s rather lonely and bleak up here, isn’t it? There used to be lead mining in this area in the olden days. But Middlebeck is in a nice fertile valley, so I’m told. And it’s a market town, so I’m sure there will be a lot of shops.’ She nodded confidently at the lady with the toddlers, then at the rest of the occupants of the carriage, ‘townies’ all of them. ‘Now…I’d better go and see how the others are faring. That’s right; eat your sandwiches, and let me know if you have any more questions. I’ll answer them if I can.’
‘She’s real nice, isn’t she?’ said Maisie to Audrey. ‘D’you think we might be in her class when we get to…where did she say? Middleton?’
‘Middlebeck,’ corrected Audrey. ‘Yes, we might be. That’d be great, wouldn’t it?’
‘Hey, she’s our teacher, not yours,’ said the boy called Bobby. ‘Ain’t she, Colin?’
‘Aye, thass reight,’ replied Colin. ‘She teaches the ones as ’ave just come up from th’ Infant School. So you’ve ’ad it, you two.’
‘Wot’s it matter, anyroad,’ said another of the small boys. ‘Hers just a teacher, and teachers is all bossy an’ bad tempered and thinks they knows it all.’
‘Miss Mellodey ain’t like that!’ retorted Bobby. ‘You know you like ’er, Jack. She were dead nice with yer that time you wet yer pants in t’ classroom.’
‘Shurrup!’ yelled Jack as the other boys all fell about laughing. ‘Shurrup, the lot of yous! I were ill, weren’t I, an’ I ’ad to go ’ome. I never said I didn’t like her. She’s all right; not bad for a teacher. Anyroad, never mind ’er…I’m gonner eat me butties, like she said we could.’
‘We’ll just have to wait and see,’ whispered Maisie to Audrey.
Both girls took their sandwiches wrapped in greaseproof paper out of their bags.
‘What’ve you got?’ asked Maisie, peering at her friend’s neatly cut triangles with the crusts taken off. ‘Gosh! Them’s fancy! Me mum used to cut ’em like that when I had a party. But that was ages ago…’ Birthday parties were now things of the past, back in that far-away time when her daddy had still been with them. Bread was now invariably cut in thick doorsteps and spread with dripping or margarine and a smear of jam.
‘I think they’re salmon,’ said Audrey, looking carefully at them. ‘Yes; salmon…and some egg and cress as well… Would you like one, Maisie?’
‘Ooh, I wouldn’t mind,’ said Maisie. ‘Ta very much. I tell you what; I’ll swap you one of mine for one of yours.’
‘Oh, all right then,’ said Audrey, although she was looking rather dubiously at the thick sandwiches with the crusts left on and the jam oozing out of the centres. ‘Er, no…I don’t think I will after all, thank you. I’m not really all that hungry.’
‘OK; suits me,’ said Maisie cheerfully. ‘I ’spect I can eat ’em all. Ta for the salmon one; it’s yummy!’ She licked her lips appreciatively. ‘Me mum makes me eat the crusts. She says they make yer hair curl.’ She fingered her spikey dark crop. ‘But it’s not true, is it?’
Audrey shook her head. ‘No; I don’t suppose it is. It’s just one of those things that mums say. I’ve heard mine say it too, sometimes…’ She was starting to look sad again, so Maisie nudged her.
‘Here, have a crisp,�
� she said. ‘No; take an ’andful. We can share ’em.’ That was something that she, Maisie, had found in her bag and that Audrey did not have. A packet of Smith’s crisps. Maisie was particularly fond of them. She dug her hand in the packet now and drew out the tiny blue paper screw of salt. She sprinkled it over the crisps then shook the bag vigorously.
There was silence in the compartment, apart from the crunching of crisps, as everyone ate their sandwiches, at the same time looking out of the window at the changing scene. The bleak landscape gradually gave way to pleasant pasture land again, where sheep and cows were grazing. There was a river running through the valley, quite near to the railway track and, in the distance, a waterfall tumbling down a gully between two hills. They passed near to the ruins of what Maisie guessed was an old abbey where, in the olden days, monks had used to live.
Then the signs of life became more abundant. A cluster of farm buildings, a row of greystone cottages, their gardens ablaze with colourful flowers, a stream where boys were fishing, smoke coming from the chimney of a small factory; and then there were more and more houses and streets as they drew near to a town.
At last there was an extra loud hiss of steam and a gigantic bellow from the engine, then a screeching of brakes as the train gradually slowed to a halt. It stopped with a jerk. There on the platform was a black and white sign which said MIDDLEBECK, and standing by it a guard with a green flag and another important looking man, like the one in Leeds, but with rather less gold braid on his uniform.
‘Come along now, everyone. We’re here!’ shouted Miss Cousins. ‘Hurry up now and get off the train. Just the ones from Armley, of course; the others are staying on. Now make sure you’ve got all your belongings because this train’s going further north…’ With the kids from the other schools in Leeds, thought Maisie, as noses were pressed against the windows and dozens of pairs of eyes watched the Armley lot alight from the train.
‘Now – stand in twos on the platform, then we can count you. Do try to stand still, and stop fidgeting! Yes, I know you’ve been sitting down a long time, but we’re here now… And here are some people to welcome us. How very kind…’ Miss Cousins put on a posh voice as she stepped forward to greet two ladies wearing green suits and hats who had just arrived on the platform.
‘How do you do? I am Miss Cousins, and this is my friend and colleague, Miss Mellodey…’
Maisie and Audrey looked at one another, trying to smile, but a little worriedly. They were miles from home in a place they had never heard of before. But they had, each of them, made a new friend that day. Instinctively and simultaneously they reached out and clasped hands, holding tightly to one another.
Chapter Five
Patience Fairchild noticed the two little girls as soon as they entered the hall, one dark and one fair, clinging tightly to each other’s hands as though they would never want to let go. Her heart went out to them at once. Poor little mites! Although not so little, she guessed; maybe nine or ten years old. She and Luke had already decided they would have an evacuee, a girl, preferably, to live with them. Maybe they could have two, these two… In some ways two would be easier than one. A single child might be lonely, especially so far away from home.
Immediately came the thought that they had decided last night at the meeting there was to be no picking and choosing…or rejecting. Although human nature being as it was, a certain amount of that was sure to go on, Patience reflected. It might look bad, though, if the rector’s wife were to step in and lay claim to two pretty little girls. She realised she would have to ‘hold her horses’ so to speak, but she would keep a watchful eye on the two friends all the same.
Patience had elected to stay at the Village Institute and help with the making of the tea and orange juice and setting out the food. Rector’s wife or no, she did not mind how she ‘mucked in’, and people admired her for this. It was Muriel Hollins and her second-in-command, Jessie Campion, the VIPs of the WVS, who had gone along to the railway station to meet the children and teachers from the train. Patience, like the rest of the women, was wearing her uniform of green and red that day. The weather was still warm – God was blessing them with an Indian summer, as though to counteract their tribulations and anxieties for the future – and the red jumper felt hot and clingy. A splash of colour, though, in the rather bare and dismal room. The WVS ladies looked like so many cheerful robin redbreasts as they bobbed about, seeing to the needs of the children and the adults accompanying them. Patience would have like to pull off her green felt hat, shaking free her hair, but all the other women appeared to be keeping them on, so she decided she must do the same.
There were sixty or so newcomers altogether, she estimated, including the teachers and the women and younger children under school age; who now, free from the constraints of prams and their mother’s arms were, for the most part, charging wildly around the room.
It was at that moment that Muriel Hollins clapped her hands and raised her voice above the hubbub. ‘Ladies, please! Those of you who have young children, will you please keep them under control? We cannot be held responsible if there is an accident with boiling hot tea. Make them sit down, please! There are lots of lovely things to eat.’
The women, in the main, did as they were requested, chasing after the infants and then holding them firmly on their laps. Although Patience did hear one woman complaining, ‘Oo the ’ell does she think she is, tellin’ us what to do? I’d like to see ’er with an ’ouseful of kids.’ Patience reflected that Archie Tremaine’s wife had volunteered to take the women with the small children. Poor Rebecca! she mused. I hope she realises what she is letting herself in for.
A long trestle table had been set out down the centre of the room and covered with an assortment of cloths, some gingham, some plain white, some flowered; they were normally used on the small card tables for afternoon tea. The children and mothers, and the toddlers on knees, were soon tucking into the sandwiches the women of the WVS, to give them their due, had prepared as carefully as they would for their own families. Egg and cress, salmon paste and sardine; they were going down very well. There were, also, some with mashed banana, now turning into a gooey brown mess, and some ‘jam butties’ with a bright red substance oozing from the sides, but these were very popular with the children.
They had soon gulped down the orange juice, which had proved to be a winner, holding out their cups for more, like Oliver Twist, some saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, and others not bothering with such niceties. The mothers, likewise, drank thirstily the dark brown tea, a much needed pick-me-up to face their new life in strange surroundings.
All the children had been persuaded to take off their headgear; the boys their school caps or balaclava helmets and the girls their pixie hoods and woollen berets. But they kept their coats on – mainly navy gaberdine mackintoshes – and many still had their gas masks slung around their necks, with their labels. This little detail affected Patience more than anything. Poor little kiddies; being labelled as though they were on sale at a market.
She kept her eye as she circled the table, offering sandwiches and cakes, on ‘her’ two little girls. It was the dark one who was by far the more animated of the two, chattering away and trying to draw her friend into conversation. The fair-haired one seemed much more timid; probably the little lass was feeling very lost and homesick, thought Patience, and the dark-haired little girl was doing her best to cheer her up. Her heart went out to them both again.
There were other differences between them, too, that she could not help but notice. The little blonde girl looked like a model child out of a picture book or a film; not exactly Shirley Temple, though, because her hair was smooth and sleek, not done up in ringlets like the child star’s. She was very clean and tidy, even after the train journey; clearly a child who was mindful of how she looked, and behaved as well. Her clothes, too, would have cost a bob or two, thought Patience; her mother, obviously, had dressed her in her best coat and shoes for the journey to unknown terr
itory.
The little dark-haired girl was a complete contrast. Her spiky hair looked as though it had been cut with a knife and fork, as Patience’s mother had used to say, and her clothes might very well have come from a jumble sale. But Patience could see beyond that. The child’s face was lively and alert, with a good deal of sympathy in her deep brown eyes as she tried to coax her friend to talk and smile a little. Chalk and cheese they seemed to be, but it was, no doubt, a case of opposites being attracted to one another. Patience guessed at the little dark one’s depth of character; and, though more that a trifle unkempt, she did not appear neglected. Her cheeks were rosy and she was not thin and scrawny as deprived children often were. Patience imagined there was someone at home in Armley who cared for her, although she felt, intuitively, that the little girl had not had an easy life.
She realised she could not go on thinking of them as ‘the dark one’ and ‘the fair one’, so she went over to chat to them and discover their names.
The dark-haired girl looked up and smiled. ‘Hello…’ she said, just a shade warily as Patience smiled down at her.
‘Hello,’ said Patience. ‘I’ve been watching the two of you. You are good friends, aren’t you? I’ve come to find out what you are called.’
‘I’m Maisie and she’s Audrey,’ said ‘the dark one’, pointing at the other girl. ‘Yes, we are friends, aren’t we, Audrey? We’ve decided we’re going to be ‘best friends’, but we weren’t, not till today. We’re in the same class, y’see, but we didn’t sit near to one another so we didn’t know one another very well. But we do now, don’t we, Audrey?’
Above the Bright Blue Sky Page 7
