‘Yes,’ said the other girl. She glanced up at Patience and, recognising kindness and understanding in the grown-up’s manner, she began to smile a little. ‘She’s going to be my best friend…Maisie is. She used to be called Nellie; that’s what we all called her at school, but she’s going to be Maisie now… It’s a nice name, isn’t it?’ she added shyly.
‘Shurrup you!’ retorted Maisie. ‘What d’you want to go and tell her that for?’
Patience laughed. ‘Well, I can’t say I blame you, my dear. Maisie is a lovely name…and so is Audrey.’ She peered at the name tags. ‘Eleanor May Jackson, and Audrey Dennison. Well, I’m very pleased to meet both of you. And I’m Mrs Fairchild. Patience is my Christian name. Perhaps we will get to know one another better and…’
Maisie interrupted. ‘All you ladies, you’ve all got green hats and red jumpers on. Do you belong to some sort of club or summat?’
‘You could say that,’ smiled Patience. ‘We belong to the WVS – the Women’s Voluntary Service. We’ve all volunteered, you see, to do what we can to help the war effort… Although we’re not really at war at the moment,’ she added, feeling a little guilty at having mentioned the word. But the child, Maisie, was obviously a realist.
‘But we’re going to be, aren’t we,’ she said. ‘That’s why we’ve all come here, isn’t it, ’cause there’s going to be a war?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ replied Patience. ‘It seems very much like it… I think we all look like jolly robin redbreasts in our red jumpers, don’t we?’ she said, in an attempt to lighten the conversation.
‘Mmm…p’raps you do,’ said Maisie. ‘Them hats, though; they look like the hats those posh girls wear; you know, in Angela Brazil books.’
Patience laughed. ‘Yes, you’re right; so they do.’ She remembered the Angela Brazil school stories with fondness, from her own girlhood. She had revelled in them, and they were still widely read, although a little old-fashioned by now, she would have thought. ‘Do you read those stories, dear?’
‘Oo yes, I love ’em,’ said Maisie. ‘You read ’em an’ all, don’t you, Audrey?’ Her friend nodded. ‘’Course, they’re all about posh kids,’ Maisie went on. ‘Rich kids that go away to school an’ all that, but they’re dead good. Me mam has a few what she had when she was a girl and I’ve read ’em hundreds of times. And sometimes they let us take books home from school. I like Enid Blyton an’ all, and I’ve read ‘Black Beauty’ and ‘What Katy Did’… I wish somebody ’ud write stories about ordinary kids, though, like me.’
She’s a discerning child, thought Patience. She was already noticing the class structures and the differences they made. She, Patience, had wondered, too, when she was growing up why many things, literature in particular, always seemed geared to the upper classes. Maybe a war would succeed in levelling out the status quo… This little Maisie must be a clever child, though, to be reading and understanding books such as those at her age.
‘I’m pleased you like reading,’ she said, ‘both of you. You never feel lonely if you can lose yourself in a story… How old are you?’ she asked. ‘Let me guess. Nine?…or you might even be ten.’
‘You’re dead right!’ It was Audrey who answered, rather to Patience’s surprise. The little girl had livened up considerably. ‘We’re both nine; well, we’re nearly ten, aren’t we, Maisie? We’re in the Third Year Juniors, you see, Standard Three. I shall be ten in December.’
‘Aw, will yer?’ said Maisie, looking a little crestfallen. ‘I didn’t know that. It’s not fair! You’re older than me!’
‘And when is your birthday, Maisie?’ asked Patience.
‘Not till May. May the first. That’s why me mam and dad called me May, y’see… But I didn’t know she was older than me…’
‘It doesn’t matter, silly!’ said Audrey.
‘No…I s’pose it doesn’t. But I look older than you, don’t I?’
Patience was distracted from the friends’ minor altercation by the sight of Miss Amelia Thomsom approaching, an earnest expression on her sallow thin-featured face. Patience felt her heart sink. She remembered the woman saying, though a shade reluctantly, that she would take an evacuee, a little girl she had specified, to live with her. They had not actually got round to sorting out the living accommodation yet, as the children were only just finishing their meal; but Patience was kicking herself for not having jumped in immediately and asked the two little girls if they would like to come and live with her. Immediately upon that thought came another. How would it look if she, the rector’s wife, were to lay claim to these two little girls who happened to appeal to her? There would be a good deal of bickering and back-biting and talk of favouritism. But she feared she could guess what was in Miss Thomson’s mind. The woman was looking appraisingly at the girls, but particularly, Patience thought, at the one called Audrey. She forced herself to smile, saying, ‘Now, Miss Thomson…I think they are all enyoying their meal, aren’t they? Thank you so much for coming to help us today. We really do appreciate what you are doing.’
The older woman did not answer her. Instead, she addressed her remark to Audrey, fixing the little girl with her gimlet eyes and leaning down to look more closely at her. ‘You seem to be a nice little girl,’ she said. ‘Very clean and presentable. I’m rather fussy about who I invite into my home, but I think that you might do very nicely. Would you like to come and live with me…’ She peered at the name tag. ‘…Audrey? What do you say?’
The child stared at her open-mouthed and wide-eyed. Patience could see a glimmer of fear there in her blue eyes, which was not surprising. Even her husband, the rector, found himself pussy-footing around Miss Thomson at times, for fear of provoking her displeasure. Her autocratic bearing and her almost black piercing eyes that seemed to bore right into one’s mind, were enough to scare any child, particularly a timid one such as Audrey. But Patience did not believe there was any real malice in the woman. Miss Thomson was a God-fearing woman and she would do her duty, as she saw it. Audrey, she felt sure, would not be ill-treated were she to go and live there. Would she be welcomed though, or understood? The woman had had little or nothing to do with children.
‘Come along, Audrey,’ Miss Thomson was saying. ‘What’s the matter? Has the cat got your tongue? I’m asking you if you would like to come and live with me. Not that you have any choice really. I have decided…’
Patience could not help herself. ‘Now just wait a minute, Miss Thomson,’ she said. ‘We haven’t started to sort out, yet, where the children will be living. They are only just finishing their meal. I think you are being a bit hasty…’
‘Oh, you do, do you?’ The woman’s steely black eyes were magnified by the spectacles she wore, and Patience felt herself begin to quail a little. ‘And what were you doing, then, if you were not staking your claim? I have been watching you talking to this child for the last ten minutes or so. But I had already picked her out as being suitable for me.’
‘Don’t you remember us saying at the meeting last night that there was to be no selecting…or rejecting?’ said Patience, although she was aware that she was on very shaky ground.
‘I don’t know about that, but I do distinctly remember Mrs Hollins saying that the helpers were to have the first choice,’ Miss Thomson retorted. ‘Not that I have much time for the woman, and she’s been more bossy that ever since she became one of the bigwigs of the WVS. But she’s in charge of this evacuation scheme when all is said and done, and she definitely said…’
Patience could see that Audrey was looking very worried and tears were forming in her big blue eyes. ‘Don’t cry, dear,’ she said, patting her shoulder. ‘We’ll sort something out, don’t you worry.’
‘Yes, you’d better stop that,’ said Miss Thomson. ‘I’m not sure that I want a crybaby.’
‘She’s not a crybaby!’ chimed in Maisie. ‘She wants to stay with me, that’s all. We’ve decided. We’re going to stay together. So if she’s got to go and live with this old lady, then I’m going an’
all.’
Patience had noticed Miss Thomson bristle at being referred to as an old lady and she suppressed a smile. Clearly Maisie was a child who called a spade a spade, as Yorkshire folk were inclined to do.
‘Oh no, no; that’s quite out of the question,’ the woman said. She glanced witheringly at Maisie. ‘I have room for only one evacuee. And I would not want to take you anyway. You are a very rude little girl, interrupting like that when grown-ups are talking. I was always told that little girls should be seen and not heard.’
‘I’m sure she didn’t mean to be rude,’ said Patience. ‘She’s just trying to stick up for her friend, aren’t you, dear? They’ve been together all day, looking after one another, and it’s understandable that they don’t want to be parted. So it might be better, Miss Thomson, if you were to decide on another little girl…?’
‘So that you can have this one, I suppose?’ She cast Patience a frosty look; but she did at least have the sense to lower her voice before making her next remark. ‘I must say, Mrs Fairchild, that they seem to be rather an unsavoury lot of children. Most of them are not what you could call clean and tidy – positively scruffy, some of them – and their table manners leave a lot to be desired. But that little girl, Audrey, has obviously been well-brought-up. No, I am afraid my mind is made up. This is the child that I want.’
Maisie’s eyes were narrowed and she was scowling, staring at the woman with dislike. It was more than likely that she had heard the remark about the children being scruffy and, moreover, the woman seemed bent on taking her new best friend away from her. Patience knew that Maisie would not really want to go and live with Miss Thomson, even if the woman wanted her, but it had been generous of her to offer to go with her friend. Poor Audrey was looking very perplexed and she glanced up at Patience pleadingly.
Patience was in a quandary. She felt she ought to dissuade Miss Thomson against taking such a timid little girl; more than that, her gut feeling was to put her arms around the two children and say, ‘No, you selfish old woman! They are coming with me!’ But she knew she could not say, or even hint at what she felt. She, more than anyone, as the rector’s wife, had to behave with propriety. It was only children who could get away with speaking their minds; and it seemed that Maisie was one who was inclined to do just that. She only hoped that the child had not made an enemy of Miss Thomson, who certainly would not be dissuaded from taking Audrey.
Patience sighed inwardly, but outwardly she smiled encouragingly at the two children, and then a little less fulsomely at Miss Thomson. ‘Very well then, Miss Thomson,’ she said, and then, as Audrey gave a little start and edged closer to her, ‘It’s all right, Audrey dear. Everything is going to be fine. Miss Thomson will take care of you…and I’m going to take care of Maisie. She can come and live with me and my husband.’ To her relief and pleasure she saw Maisie’s face light up with a smile of delight, which, just as quickly, vanished.
‘But…what about Audrey?’ she said. ‘I told you…we want to be together.’
‘Ah well,’ said Patience, ‘what you don’t know is that Miss Thomson and I are very close neighbours. We live very near to one another, don’t we, Miss Thomson?’ The woman nodded briefly, moving her lips in a slight semblance of a smile.
‘Yes, we do. Right opposite one another.’
‘I live at the rectory next to the church,’ explained Patience. ‘My husband is the rector there, you see, and Miss Thomson lives just across the green. I can see her house from my front windows. And next door to Miss Thomson’s house is the school you will both be attending. So you won’t have very far to go to school, will you?’
‘No…I s’pose not,’ said Maisie. The two girls were regarding one another anxiously, Audrey biting her lip hard in an effort not to cry and Maisie still frowning a little.
‘You will be able to see one another every day,’ Patience continued, smiling brightly and trying to sound full of optimism. ‘And not just at school. You can come across to the rectory, Audrey, and have tea with Maisie sometimes. And we have a nice big garden you can play in. Miss Thomson has a lovely garden, too, and I’m sure she will let you play in it.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Miss Thomson, but sounding not at all sure. ‘I am very proud of my rose bushes, though, and my flower beds. I don’t want them trampling on, and neither will Wilfred. He takes a great pride in his work.’ Wilfred was the gardener who went twice a week to tend the gardens at the front and rear. It was true that they were a delight to the eye. He also went, rather less frequently, to tend the rectory gardens; Luke and Patience were not quite as fussy about immaculate lawns and tidy borders as was their neighbour. ‘I suppose you might be allowed to play on the lawn at the back occasionally,’ the older woman conceded. ‘I will have to see… So is that settled, Mrs Fairchild? I will take Audrey and you will take…the other one. I suppose we had better go and inform Mrs Hollins. I see she has her list in front of her.’
Mrs Muriel Hollins and her assistant, Mrs Jessie Campion had now seated themselves at a table at one end of the room with official looking papers in front of them. Other WI ladies, those who were less high-ranking, were now clearing away the empty cups and plates and moving into the kitchen to tackle the washing-up. Several people from the town of Middlebeck and the outlying farmland had now come into the hall, after hearing the news that the evacuees had arrived. Patience noticed a couple of farmers from the outskirts of Middlebeck. As she might have known, the two men made a beeline towards a group of boys, the oldest and sturdiest of the evacuees – possible farmer’s boys in the making? – although none of the children could be more than eleven. The women who had entered the hall, some with children of their own, were looking around somewhat apprehensively, their eyes fixing first on one and then on another of the children sitting at the tables. Then, some of the WI helpers from the kitchen, no doubt realising they were missing out – and after all, hadn’t they been told that they could have first pick? – came dashing out to lay claim to the children they preferred.
Yes, it was as Patience had feared. In spite of their best endeavours, it seemed as though there was no other way to sort out the accommodation for these children than to let people choose for themselves. What about the ones who were left at the end, though, the ones to whom no one had offered a home? It had been suggested at the meeting that they should be taken round from door to door in the village until they were all housed. Everyone who had room in their home was obliged to take one evacuee or more, but no doubt all sorts of excuses would be forthcoming. And Patience guessed it would be those with the grander houses who would offer the most resistance. Miss Thomson herself was a case in point. She had ample room for two, three or even four evacuees in that mansion of hers, but maybe it was better left as it was. No doubt one would be all she could cope with.
Patience, holding Maisie by the hand, and Miss Thomson, shepherding a reluctant Audrey, still clinging to her friend, went to inform Mrs Hollins of their decision.
‘Come along, Audrey,’ said Miss Thomson briskly. ‘Let go of your friend’s hand now, dear.’ At least she had called her ‘dear’ thought Patience. ‘We are going back to my house now. I think I have done my share, Mrs Fairchild. I was here early this morning so I would like to go now and get…er…this little lady settled into her new home.’ She actually smiled at the child, a little frostily, but at least she was making some effort.
‘Can we go now an’ all?’ asked Maisie. ‘Can we, Mrs…what did you say you were called?’
‘Mrs Fairchild,’ smiled Patience. ‘Yes, I dare say we could go as well. I really ought to stay and help with the washing-up, but maybe, under the circumstances…’
‘Yes, you run along, dear,’ said Mrs Hollins, always eager to keep well in with the rector’s wife. ‘There are plenty of folk to help out here, and you will want to get back to the rector. Actually, I thought he might have popped in to see us all today?’ She looked questioningly at Patience.
‘My husband is away on business,’
she replied, ‘or else he would have been here, I assure you. He has a very important meeting today.’ But she had no intention of telling Muriel Hollins that Luke had gone to see his Bishop. Even Patience was not altogether sure what they would be discussing, but she surmised, knowing her husband as she did, that he would be asking how best he could serve his King and Country in the war which was now inevitable.
As they left the Village Institute and came out into the main street, Archie Tremaine was busy shepherding a flock of women and small children into his shooting brake. Behind him was his wife, Rebecca, assisting the remainder of them into their saloon car, as there were too many to fit into one vehicle. Mrs Tremaine was one of the few women in the little town who drove a car; she was often to be seen rolling majestically along the High Street in their sturdy black Ford Prefect.
‘Oh look, Audrey,’ cried Maisie, stopping and pointing. ‘There’s that lady that was in our carriage, an’ her little boy and girl. Yoo-hoo…’ She waved to them as the little lad pressed his nose against the shooting brake window and the tiny girl on her mother’s lap stared around in bewilderment. ‘Hello Billy, hello Brenda. That’s what you called ’em, i’n’t it? I don’t know your name though, Mrs…’
The young woman laughed out loud. Patience was learning that Maisie had that effect on people and she suspected that life would never be dull with this little girl around. ‘I’m called Mrs Booth, Sally Booth,’ replied the woman. ‘It was clever of you to remember the names of these two scallywags. And you are Maisie and Audrey, aren’t you?’ She ruffled her little boy’s hair. ‘Come on, Billy. Sit down now, there’s a good lad. You’re muckying up the man’s nice clean window.’ She turned to the girls again.
‘You’ve got two nice ladies to look after you, I can see. And what about us, eh? Ridin’ in a posh car as though we’re gentry or summat. Talk about swanky! I can see we’re goin’ to ’ave a rare old time ’ere. I’ll look out for you both. Tara then… See yer…’
Above the Bright Blue Sky Page 8
