‘So I can imagine,’ said Luke. ‘I was only joking, though. I’m sure the little girl will be all right there.’
‘That’s what I told Maisie; she was really worried about her. Maisie’s a grand little lass, Luke. Rather neglected looking though. Her clothes are shabby and worn, but I get the impression that her mother does her best. She’s certainly clean enough, but I suspect she’s had head lice recently, poor kid.’
‘I should imagine that’s par for the course, isn’t it, with evacuees, if they’re from a poorer sort of home?’
‘Possibly. I haven’t asked her too much about her home life as yet. But she shut up like a clam at first when I mentioned her step-father. Then the next minute she burst out with a tirade about how she hated him, and his son. I was quite worried, Luke.’
He shook his head sadly. ‘I dare say some of these children come from dreadful homes. But you are just the right person, my darling, to show her that she is loved and cared for. I’ll go up and have a peep at her in a while, when I’ve finished my cup of tea. You put her in the little front room, did you?’
‘Yes…’ Patience smiled. ‘She seemed to think it was wonderful, but I know that it’s ready for decorating, and for a new carpet. She went off to bed happily enough, and when I popped in a little while later she was fast asleep.’
‘God bless her,’ replied Luke. ‘We will make sure she feels wanted here, for as long as she stays. But let’s hope and pray that this war doesn’t go on for as long as the last one did…’
Chapter Seven
Mrs Fairchild – Aunty Patience – kissed her gently on the forehead. ‘God bless, Maisie,’ she said. ‘Have a nice sleep and don’t worry about anything. See you in the morning. Goodnight dear.’
‘Goodnight…’ said Maisie as she snuggled down between the sheets and the warm blankets.
It was dark in the room because Patience had pulled down the blackout blind and drawn the curtains, and just as no light could be seen from outside, so none could enter the room through the window. She had left the bedroom door slightly ajar and an arrow of light from the landing filtered into the room.
‘Shall I leave this light on for a little while, dear?’ called Patience.
‘No…it doesn’t matter,’ replied Maisie from beneath the bedclothes. ‘I’ll be all right, honest. You can switch it off.’
‘Very well, dear. But if you need to go to the bathroom the switch is just outside the door.’
‘OK,’ said Maisie. ‘Thank you…Aunty Patience.’
It was almost totally dark after the light had been turned off, but Maisie was not afraid of the dark. It was not the dark she had feared at home, only what had happened from time to time under cover of darkness. But she was safe here; she did not need to be frightened any more. Even the thought of the war that everyone said was coming did not frighten her as much as the thought of Sid and Percy, particularly Percy. But they were many miles away in Leeds, and she was here in Middlebeck with a nice kind lady who was a new aunty to her.
Maisie’s head was a jumble of thoughts. So much had happened that day that she could not separate them. Her mother and the two children and her home in Armley seemed so very far away, but it was them she was thinking of just before she went to sleep. She said a little prayer inside her head, as they had taught her to do in Sunday School, a long time ago. ‘Please God…take care of my mum…and Joanie and Jimmy too,’ she added, because she knew she should. Then her eyelids closed and she drifted off to sleep
She was awakened, not by a sound, but by a faint beam of light coming through her door. She stirred dazedly, not remembering where she was, but then she became aware that there was someone there in the room with her. She lifted her head from the pillow, looking towards the doorway. There was a person standing there. In the half light, half dark she could make out the shape of a male figure, tallish, with broad shoulders and fair hair. He smiled and took a step towards her.
Maisie sat bolt upright. It was him! It was Percy! He had come to get her. She gave a piercing scream which made the figure stop dead in his tracks. ‘No! No!’ she yelled. ‘Go away! Go away! Don’t come near me. Just…go away…’ She was more terrified than she had ever been in her life, but as she cowered away from him she still continued to stare at the person who had entered the room, as though she was powerless to look away. And then, suddenly, the light of reason returned and she began to remember where she was. She was not at home in Armley. She was at her new home, far away from Leeds and…and it was not Percy. It could not possibly be Percy, or Sid.
‘Ohhh…’ Her breath escaped in long drawn out sigh and her whole body sagged with relief. ‘You’re not Percy. I thought you were Percy. Who…who are you?’
By this time Patience, hearing the screaming and shouting, had arrived on the scene. She dashed into the bedroom and over to the child, taking in her arms the limp and crumpled little figure. ‘It’s all right, darling. You’re quite safe. It was just a bad dream.’ At the same time she turned to her husband. ‘Luke! I told you not to wake her up. Poor little girl; she was frightened to death. You should have had more sense.’
‘I didn’t mean to,’ said Luke. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t even put the light on. I only opened the door, and she started yelling. I suppose I must have startled her, and she thought I was…somebody else.’ He went towards the bed and gently touched the little girl’s shoulder.
‘I’m Luke,’ he said. ‘Patience’s husband. And you’ve come to live with us, haven’t you, Maisie? I’m sorry if I frightened you. I can see now that it was very silly of me. I’m sorry, Maisie…’
‘It’s all right.’ Maisie looked at him searchingly. ‘I thought you were Percy. But you’re not. Of course you’re not. You’re nothing like him…’ Then she began to tremble uncontrollably. She buried her head against Patience’s shoulder, and the tears – the long overdue tears, for not one had she shed since leaving home – began to flow. ‘Oh, Aunty Patience,’ she cried. ‘I really thought it was Percy, that he’d come to get me again. I didn’t know where I was, an’ I thought it was him. I was really frightened…’
‘I know you were, darling, but you’re quite safe now.’
‘It wasn’t a dream…I thought it was real, that it was Percy…’ She began to sob, impassioned sobs that shook her whole body. Patience held her close.
‘That’s right, dear. You have a good cry. It’s not babyish to cry, Maisie. We all need to cry sometimes. And there is nothing to fear here, nothing at all.’ She motioned to her husband. ‘Now, Luke is going to make us a nice cup of tea – with lots of sugar in it, please, Luke. And you and I will sit here and drink it before you go off to sleep again. And you can tell me, if you would like to, what it is that is worrying you.’
Patience listened with increasing horror and alarm as the little girl poured out her story of what had happened to make her so frightened. She found it hard to imagine the child going through such a dreadful experience. But thank God she had managed to get away from it all and that she was safe here for the duration. It seemed as though the evacuation scheme – the outbreak of war, indeed – was proving to be far from an ill wind for children like Maisie.
Patience heard how the man called Sid, Maisie’s step-father, had ‘belted’ her from time to time; and her mother, too, had had more than the occasional thumping and black eye. The ‘little ’uns, our Joanie and Jimmy’, however, had usually managed to escape his wrath, ‘because they’re his kids, y’see,’ Maisie told her, an’ they look just like him an’ all; they don’t look anything like me mum.’
‘But…they are your mother’s children, aren’t they?’ she enquired carefully.
‘Oh yes, ’course they are. I remember them being born. Soon after he came to live with us she started having babies…but I hope there won’t be any more.’
It was the lad called Percy, though, of whom Maisie was the most scared, terrified out of her wits. No wonder she had screamed on seeing a strange figure in her bedroom.
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‘He started coming into my room, Aunty Patience, when the little ’uns were asleep, an’…an’ he’d get into bed with me and make me do all sorts of things – awful things. I knew it was wrong and I didn’t like it. But he said he’d beat me up, or his dad would, if I told on him.’
Patience was appalled. Had the child been badly molested? she wondered; interfered with in a serious way. But she hesitated to ask outright. Besides, she doubted she could find the words to phrase such a question.
‘He made me kiss him, an’…an’ touch him,’ Maisie went on, as though a dam had burst inside her and the story, in all its awfulness, had to pour out of her. Patience knew that it was cathartic, part of a healing process that the child had to go through, and that she must listen and help if she were able. ‘An’…an’ he touched me an’ all, me legs an’…an’ places what I knew was wrong.’
Patience held her close. ‘Did he…did he do anything else, Maisie? Really…hurt you, I mean?’
Fortunately the child seemed to grasp her meaning. Patience guessed that she had already learned the facts of life, or had guessed at them. She shook her head decidedly.
‘No, he didn’t do…what you have to do to get babies,’ she said. ‘I know what that is, y’see, Aunty Patience. One of the big girls at school told me.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Patience, feeling slightly relieved and speaking hurriedly before the girl went on to explain, possibly in more graphic detail. ‘But what this boy did was very very wrong and I’m glad you’ve told me about it. What about your mother, though? Does she still not know about…what was happening to you? I really think she ought to know, Maisie…’ There were younger children in that house, she was thinking. They sounded a couple of terrible tykes, that Joanie and Jimmy; nevertheless, they were vulnerable.
‘Oh, she knows about it now,’ said Maisie. ‘I screamed, y’see, and shouted out when he came into me room the last time – last night it were – an’ I kicked him hard an’ all. Then me mum came dashing in. I think she must’ve guessed there was summat going on, ’cause she’d got a pair of scissors in her hand and she tried to stab Percy.’
‘Good gracious!’ breathed Patience. This tale was going from bad to worse.
‘But I shouted at her that she hadn’t to kill him. I knocked the scissors flying and they cut Percy’s arm a bit, but he weren’t really hurt. He yelled though; you should’ve heard him! An’ then Sid came in – he’d just got back from the pub – an’ he punched me mum and kicked her in the stomach, an’ she had a black eye this morning. An’ her side was hurting an’ all where he kicked her. She didn’t say it was, but I could tell.
‘An’ I’m dead worried about her now, Aunty Patience, left behind with him. She was going to come with me, and the little ’uns. Sid told her last night she had to clear off, but then he changed his mind and said she had to stay and look after him and Percy. I tried to make her come, but she said she daren’t.’
Patience felt almost too shocked to speak. Maisie had cried intermittently during the telling of the story, every word of which Patience believed to be true. But she seemed calmer now, as though, having unburdened herself and shared her troubles with a grown-up, she could relax a little and transfer some of the problem on to someone else. Her next words bore that out.
‘Aunty Patience, d’you think, p’raps, if you wrote to my mum you could make her see that she’d be safer if she came here? Safe from the war, when it comes, and from Sid an’ all. I’m scared of what he might do to her.’
‘I’ll see…’ replied Patience, knowing that it was an evasive remark. ‘I’ll talk it over with Luke, and we’ll see if there is anything we can do to help your mother. Try not to worry about it any more tonight, dear. Drink this last drop of your tea, and take this little tablet. It will help you to go back to sleep.’ She gave her an aspirin tablet, broken in half, which the child swallowed obediently. Her eyelids were drooping already and Patience felt that she would sleep soundly now till the morning.
‘Goodnight, dear,’ she said again. ‘God bless…and thank you for telling me about all the things that were worrying you. A trouble shared is a trouble halved. That’s what grown-ups say sometimes; it helps when somebody else knows about it. Night night now; sleep tight.’
‘Mind the bugs don’t bite!’ countered Maisie with a little grin. ‘That’s what my mum says sometimes. G’night, Aunty Patience.’
I hope bed bugs were not another problem in that unhappy household, thought Patience as she went downstairs again. It sounded as though the woman, Mrs Bragg, tried to do her best for her own three children, but that she was ineffectual when it came to dealing with her brute of a husband and his perverted son. For that was what the lad must be to molest his young step-sister in that way.
She repeated the sad story to Luke who was shocked, but not altogether surprised. ‘Unfortunately this sort of thing does happen, and not always just in the poorer homes,’ he said. ‘Sometimes it might be abuse of the children by a step-father, or even a natural father on occasions. But these things are not often talked about. They are swept under the carpet, probably because the mother is too ashamed to speak out, or she may not even know. Thank God this little girl has got away, for the time being… But I admit, my dear, that – like you – I feel at a loss to know what we can do about the mother’s situation back home. The police still tend to look upon these occurences as domestic problems and don’t want to get involved.’
‘Thank goodness the child wasn’t raped,’ said Patience. ‘That was what I feared when she was telling me, but it seems that the lad was just…amusing himself. Ugh! The thought of such a thing, and that dear little girl…’
‘Yes…I must try to win her confidence,’ said Luke. ‘I should imagine she is not very keen on the male sex at the moment.’
‘She has mentioned her dad, her real dad, and it sounds as though she was very fond of him. He died when she was only a tiny girl.’
‘And then her mother made a disastrous marriage,’ remarked Luke. ‘Why do women do these things, I wonder? For security, I suppose, for somebody to lean on. No doubt he sweet-talked her, poor woman…’
‘I know we can’t interfere, Luke,’ said Patience. ‘But they will be running trips, I’m sure, for mothers to visit their children who are evacuated. Perhaps, if we could get Maisie’s mother to come here, then we could have a chat to her.’
‘That sounds like a good idea,’ said Luke. ‘But we seem to be overlooking the fact that the war hasn’t even started yet.’
‘It’s inevitable, though, isn’t it? The Prime Minister is broadcasting to the nation at eleven o’ clock tomorrow…and I’m sure we all know what he is going to tell us.’
Luke nodded. ‘Yes, I was unsure what to do about the morning service. I think it would be best to cut it short, then everyone can be back in their own homes for eleven o’ clock. I doubt if there will be much of a congregation tomorrow, anyway. And what about Sunday School, my dear?’ Patience was in charge of the Junior department.
‘I think we will carry on as usual in the afternoon,’ said Patience, ‘for those who want to attend. It will be better if we act as normally as possible. And no doubt there will be some of the evacuees there as well. I shall take Maisie along, and I expect Miss Thomson will want Audrey to go. They’ll be glad to see one another again, those two, Maisie and Audrey. Oh dear! I can’t help wondering how little Audrey has gone on. She’s by no means the tough little customer that Maisie is.’
‘Maisie has needed to be tough, God bless her,’ said Luke. ‘It sounds as though Audrey is from an altogether different background. But they all belong to somebody, and I’m sure that most of the folk of Middlebeck will make them welcome. Now, come along, my darling; bedtime, I think. It’s been a long and hectic day, and we are going to need all our strength for tomorrow…’
When the door closed behind them Audrey found herself enveloped in the comfortable arms of Daisy, the maid.
‘Oh, the poor little lam
b!’ Daisy cried. ‘Isn’t she sweet? Have you come to live with us then, luv? What’s your name?’
The welcome was such a surprise to Audrey after the standoffishness of Miss Thomson that she burst into tears.
‘There now, look what you’ve done!’ scolded an irate Miss Thomson. ‘Put her down, Daisy, you stupid girl! The last thing we want is her crying again. I thought she’d got over that.’ She prodded at Audrey’s arm, but quite gently, saying in a voice that was not really harsh or unkind, ‘Do stop it, child. I’ve told you I can’t do with crybabies. You’re going to be perfectly all right here, Audrey. Daisy will look after you.’
‘Audrey – is that your name?’ said the plump rosy-cheeked young woman. She crouched down in front of the child still holding her arms. ‘Let’s have a proper look at you then, and let’s wipe those tears away. ‘’Ave you got an ’anky?’ Audrey produced the lace-edged one from her pocket. ‘Ooh, that’s posh, ain’t it?’ said Daisy, dabbing at her cheeks. ‘Now, don’t cry no more.’
Audrey found herself looking into a pair of blue eyes, rather prominent ones, a shade lighter than her own, and when the young woman smiled, which Audrey was to find she did quite often, she revealed a mouth of large uneven teeth with a gap at the top side. Her hair was short and dark and a little bit wavy and on top of it she wore a white cap to match her stiffly starched apron. Audrey was aware of a smell of musky perfume and another faint, sort of greasy, cooking smell. But she felt she had met somebody who would be kind to her, who might even be a friend.
Miss Thomson sniffed audibly several times, a sign, Audrey had already guessed, that she was a little bit annoyed. ‘Stop fussing, Daisy, for goodness’ sake! She’s called Audrey; Audrey Dennison; it says so on her label, although she doesn’t need to go on wearing it now. You can take her upstairs and show her where she will be sleeping. Show her where the bathroom is and everything, and make sure she puts her clothes away tidily. Then you can make a start on the meal. What are you preparing today, Daisy?’
Above the Bright Blue Sky Page 11
