The Orphan Collection

by Maggie Hope

  There was no letter from Johnny. Her heart thudded with the disappointment. For some reason she had built up in her mind the thought that there would be one that day. The fear for his safety, which was always at the edge of her thoughts, threatened to take over, a dark, terrifying fear. But no, she was sure she would have known if Johnny had been killed. For the thousandth time, Ada tried to convince herself that he hadn’t written because he was so busy.

  After all, she read the papers, she scanned the casualty lists. It was true he was in the Canadian Army and the English papers didn’t always publish the names of Canadians who were killed. But Johnny came from an important Teeside family, surely if anything had happened to him it would have been in the Northern Echo!

  Disconsolately, Ada went back into the ward and relieved Nurse Young to go back to her bedmaking. Though she tried not to think that perhaps Johnny had really meant what he said, that he didn’t want her any more, she couldn’t help the thought coming into her mind to plague her. Dear God, no, she prayed silently as she went round the ward. But better that than that he had been killed.

  ‘Matron’s a bit quiet today, isn’t she?’ a patient whispered to Nurse Young. ‘She looks sad. She hasn’t had bad news, do you think?’ Bad news these days meant bad news from the front, and Nurse Young shook her head.

  ‘Oh, no. Well, I mean, not lately. Her husband was killed last year.’

  Ada went off duty that evening at six o’clock for it was her early turn. The wards were quiet and most of the patients were almost ready to go home, either to stay or for a few days’ leave before going back to France.

  Collecting a supper tray from the kitchen, she took it up to her rooms. As always before she settled down for the night, she thought of Johnny, imagining him in France, praying he was safe.

  Johnny was not in France. He was in a hospital in the south of England and an orderly was packing his bags, for he was leaving the next day.

  Johnny was going to Dinah’s house in Middlesbrough to convalesce. He had thought long and hard before deciding to go there, but in the end a letter from Dinah had persuaded him.

  ‘You have to come, Johnny,’ Dinah had written. ‘I couldn’t bear it if you went off to Canada without coming to see us. We are the only family you have left, Johnny. If you don’t come, I swear I will follow you to Toronto.’

  So Johnny was leaving on the ten-thirty train for Darlington from King’s Cross the next morning, where Dinah was going to meet him and take him to Middlesbrough.

  The orderly closed the second bag and put it by the door with the other one, carefully placing it to one side so that it wouldn’t form an obstruction. He looked across at Johnny, sitting in the armchair.

  ‘Is there anything else, sir?’

  ‘No, thank you, private, that will be all,’ Johnny replied. ‘I can manage to get into bed myself. Put out the light as you go.’

  For Johnny was blind. His eyes were still covered with a light bandage though the wounds were healed by now.

  ‘Very good, sir.’ Obediently, the orderly went out, switching off the overhead light as he did so. Johnny sat on in the dark, thinking back over the last few months.

  The letter he had written to Lorinda had never been posted and now it never would be. It had been in the breast pocket of his uniform when the gas attack came and he and the whole platoon were caught in it. Norman, he thought, Norman had been with him from the beginning and now he was dead somewhere out in no-man’s-land.

  Best not think of it, it brought on the nightmares, or so the doctors said. And sometimes the nightmares were worse than the real thing. Instead, Johnny forced himself to think of the coming journey. There was nothing to worry about, a nurse would be with him and the other blind soldiers who were travelling north with him. And Dinah would be there to meet him at Darlington.

  The trouble with Middlesbrough was that it was too close to Durham City, he mused. And it would take all his willpower not to go to Durham and seek out his little Ada-Lorinda. But he couldn’t, he refused to saddle her with a blind man. No, better by far that she become reconciled to her doctor. Johnny felt fairly sure that Tom would come out of the war in one piece; after all, he worked in a hospital, not the trenches.

  Johnny climbed clumsily down from the train to the platform on Darlington Station and stood patiently waiting in the hubbub for Dinah to see him. He had not long to wait.

  ‘Johnny! Oh, Johnny, my dear, I’m so glad to see you.’ Dinah threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek, wetting it with her own ready tears. ‘I’ll have you out of here in a trice, just come along with me, I’ll look after you.’

  ‘Oh, Dinah, you don’t know how grand it is to hear your voice,’ he said shakily, his tone almost as emotional as hers.

  ‘Just come along and sit down here,’ Dinah said, leading him to a bench seat at the back of the platform. ‘I’ll find your baggage, the porter’s putting a pile out now – Porter!’ And Dinah was off in search of his luggage. Johnny sat there, feeling as helpless as a baby. His eyes itched and prickled under the bandages.

  ‘Here we are, I’ve got them. Just two, weren’t there, Johnny? Arthur, take them out to the car.’

  ‘Righto, Mum.’

  So Arthur was with her, thought Johnny. Still not in the army, then. Dinah took his arm and they left the station.

  Arthur had parked the car just outside and they were soon on their way up Yarm Road and out of Darlington, heading for Teeside. Johnny enjoyed feeling the wind in his face as he sat in the back seat with Dinah beside him. At least Arthur seemed to be a fairly steady driver, he thought. Dinah chattered on beside him.

  ‘I’ve given you your old room,’ she said. ‘It’s best for you, I thought, you’ll be more familiar with it. Oh, Johnny, it’s going to be all right, you’ll see, everything will be fine. Just a little time, that’s all you need.’

  ‘And a new pair of eyes,’ said Johnny, and was immediately sorry as he heard her swift intake of breath and felt her grip on his arm tighten. ‘I’m sorry, Dinah, I didn’t mean to distress you.’ What a boor he was! It wasn’t Dinah’s fault he had lost his eyesight.

  ‘That’s all right, Johnny,’ she was saying. ‘It must be awful for you, I know. I understand how you feel, I do.’

  Johnny was quite glad when the journey was over and he had successfully negotiated the front steps of the Beeches and was in the hall. The last half-hour had been a bit of a strain, both Dinah and he being careful of what they said and Arthur, in the driver’s seat, saying nothing at all.

  ‘Come into the drawing room. I’m sure you could do with some tea,’ said Dinah.

  ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to go straight up to my room. I am rather tired. It’s a long way up from Sussex, and I’ve been on the way since early this morning.’

  ‘Of course, Johnny, anything you say.’

  Johnny could tell by her voice how nervous she was, how eager to please him, anxious not to say or do the wrong thing. Funny what one could tell from people’s voices when one couldn’t see them, he thought.

  ‘I’ll send some tea up, shall I?’ she asked.

  ‘Not for me, no. I think I’ll just have a rest on the bed.’

  Dinah went up the stairs with him and he could sense her anxiously watching his every step, even though he took them slowly, tapping before him with his white stick. When he finally reached his room, he turned to her. ‘I can manage on my own, Dinah. Please don’t bother any more. I have to learn, you see.’

  He knew that Dinah was about to protest but he resolutely opened the door and went in, closing it behind him. All he wanted was to be alone, he didn’t want anyone, not even Dinah, fussing over him. After a few false moves he sat down on the bed, removing his jacket and shoes and lying back with a sigh of relief. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here after all, he thought wearily, it could only distress Dinah. And then he was so achingly aware that there were only a few miles separating him from Lorinda; the temptation to get in touch
with her and ask her to come to him was almost overwhelming, especially when he was overtired as he was now.

  It wasn’t fair to burden her with a blind man, he told himself for the umpteenth time. But all the same, there was nothing he could do to stop the longing, it was lodged just below his breastbone like a lump of lead. He sighed and impatiently pulled the bandage from his eyes, throwing it on the floor. That damnable itch, he thought savagely, would it never go away?

  There were just the two of them for dinner that evening, which was just as well, for Johnny had been dreading Stephen being there, perhaps talking of the steel business. That was another sore point: how could a blind man run a steel mill?

  ‘Stephen has rooms near the works, he often stays there now. He’s rushed off his feet with work, poor boy. And Arthur is staying at his friend’s tonight so we’ll have the whole evening on our own,’ Dinah had said as they sat down to the meal. ‘The house is quiet nowadays, I’m often on my own,’ she continued. ‘Not that I’m complaining, I know the work has to be done. But it’s lovely to have you, Johnny.’

  ‘It’s nice to be here, Dinah,’ Johnny said gently, wishing himself miles away. He wasn’t ready to be sociable, not even with Dinah. All he wanted was to be left alone to think about what might have been; he felt his life was over. As soon as the meal was finished he excused himself, pleading tiredness. He would make an effort with Dinah, he told himself, but not tonight, his thoughts were too dark. Tomorrow, though, tomorrow he would.

  The next few weeks were difficult ones for Johnny. Dinah was good to him and eager to please him but her fussing got on his nerves so that it took a real effort of will for him to stop himself snapping at her. And then there was Stephen.

  A few days after Johnny had arrived in the house, he went down to breakfast one morning to find Stephen was there. He heard his voice as he tapped his way across the hall to the dining room. He braced himself as he entered the room, but Stephen’s greeting was mild enough.

  ‘Morning, Uncle John,’ he said. ‘I trust you’re feeling better?’

  ‘Oh, morning, Stephen,’ Johnny replied. ‘Yes, thanks, I am.’ He felt for the back of his chair carefully and hung his stick on it before pulling the chair out and sitting down.

  ‘I’ll get your breakfast,’ Dinah said quickly. ‘I won’t be a tick, I have it keeping hot in the oven.’ There was a silence as she went off to the kitchen to bring his plate. Stephen rustled the pages of the paper he was reading.

  ‘Are you here for long, Uncle John?’ he asked at last.

  Trust you, my lad, thought Johnny. Can’t wait to get me away again. But Dinah was back with his bacon and eggs and she heard the question.

  ‘Stephen! Johnny’s just arrived. You make it sound as though we want rid of him and I’m sure that’s not true.’ She put the plate down before Johnny and dropped him a kiss on the forehead before going back to her own seat.

  ‘I want you to stay as long as you like, Johnny. I’m sure Stephen does too, he didn’t mean anything. I would say stay and live with us, but I know you want to get back to Canada, though what you will do –’ Dinah broke off, realising what she had almost said. ‘Well, I mean, stay as long as you like. You’re not fully recovered yet, in any case, and the best place to be if you’re not well is with your family, that’s what I say.’

  Johnny put his napkin over his lap and felt for his knife and fork, beginning to eat slowly and carefully, mindful of the sloppy egg yolk. He particularly didn’t want to make any mess for Stephen to see, even though he knew it was foolish to think like that.

  ‘Uncle John will be wanting to go back to his own home, Mother,’ Stephen said reasonably. ‘He’s made a life for himself in Canada now.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but I still think he doesn’t have to go,’ she answered, sounding quite snappish for her, especially when she was talking to her beloved son.

  Johnny cut himself off from the conversation and let their voices drone over his head, it was a trick he had learned since he became blind. He didn’t want to make any plans, he didn’t want to think about staying here or leaving for Toronto, all he wanted was to be left alone, to come to terms with his blindness in his own way. He chewed stolidly through the bacon, eggs and fried bread and drank the coffee in his cup. Then, thankful to have got through the meal without disgracing himself by making a mess, he pushed back his chair.

  ‘If you don’t mind, Dinah,’ he said, ‘I think I’ll just go back up to my room.’ He took a step away from the table and fell flat on his face as he tripped over Dinah’s cat.

  ‘Johnny!’ Dinah pushed back her chair and rushed over to him. ‘Oh, Johnny, are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine, Dinah, really, it was stupid of me. Please, I can manage.’

  ‘That’s what the white stick is for, Uncle John,’ Stephen drawled.

  Johnny didn’t answer. He took his stick from the back of the chair and left the room, feeling that if he opened his mouth he would yell and shout his rage at Stephen, at Dinah, at the world which had done this to him.

  It was Ada’s day off and she went down Old Elvet early to visit her mother and aunt, for Eliza was coming to see her during the afternoon. It would be the first time she had seen Eliza since her wedding and Ada was looking forward to a pleasant afternoon with her old friend.

  Auntie Doris and her mother had just moved into the cottage the week before. Ada had not been able to get the time off to help with the move so she felt she had to go today to make sure they were settled in all right.

  Even the outside of the cottage looked different, she saw as she opened the front gate and walked up the path. There were fresh curtains at the windows and the flowerbeds underneath were newly weeded and ablaze with colour, the bright gold of marigolds contrasting with white snow-in-summer and many-hued pansies. The brass of the front doorhandle and knocker gleamed and the step was freshly scrubbed with sandstone.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, our Ada.’ Auntie Doris opened the door to her knock. There was a lovely smell of new-baked bread coming from the back of the cottage. A bunch of marigolds in a glass vase stood on the hall table, Ada saw, as her aunt stood back for her to enter. ‘Howay in, then, I’ll just pop through to the kitchen and get the teacakes out of the oven.’

  Auntie Doris hobbled back to the kitchen and Ada trailed along behind her. On the way she glanced into the sitting room, where the furniture gleamed with polishing and there were new covers on the armchairs and frilled cushions on the sofa. The two women hadn’t been long putting their mark on the place, she thought.

  Mrs Carr was sitting by the kitchen table, turning up a skirt hem by hand. She got to her feet and offered her cheek for Ada’s kiss.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘what do you think of it?’

  Ada looked round the spotless kitchen, the floor covered with blue-and-white-checked linoleum and a blue and white tablecloth on the table. ‘It’s grand, Mam,’ she said.

  Mrs Carr gazed round in satisfaction. ‘Aye, it is, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘A bit better than Gilesgate, eh? Mind, we have a lot more to do yet, like, but it’s coming on.’

  ‘Eeh, I don’t know how you can say we’ve a lot more to do,’ Auntie Doris put in, but her voice had lost some of its usual sharpness. ‘She means, I have a lot more to do, it’s me that does all the graft.’

  ‘I made the curtains and cushions and things, didn’t I? And any road, I’m busy, earning a living for us both, aren’t I?’

  ‘I’ve got me pension, I don’t need –’

  ‘Anyway, it all looks very nice,’ Ada intervened before the argument could get any more heated. ‘I just called in to see how you were getting on. Eliza’s coming to visit me this afternoon and I want to be back for her.’

  ‘You never do come but what you’re rushing off again,’ said Mrs Carr, but Ada didn’t rise to this. She was getting used to such remarks by now and just ignored them.

  She stayed for an hour and then left, satisfied that everything was going well for her mothe
r and her aunt, and taking with her a newly baked teacake which they pressed upon her.

  Eliza was as pleased to see Ada as Ada was to see her. The two girls hugged each other and then, as the older girl stood back to look at her, Ada saw with a start of surprise that Eliza was pregnant. Eliza laughed and put a hand over her stomach which was just beginning to swell.

  ‘Don’t look so surprised, Ada. It does tend to happen when a lass gets wed, like.’

  ‘I don’t know, I just never thought – Are you pleased about it, Eliza? Because I’m pleased too if you are.’

  ‘Why, man, it’ll be grand having another baby, mebbe a little lass this time. Oh, aye, I’m pleased and Emmerson is an’ all.’

  The two girls were soon settled down to an afternoon of catching up on each other’s news, though afterwards Ada realised that Eliza hadn’t said a lot about her new husband. She chatted on about Bertie and Miles, however.

  ‘Have you heard from Johnny Fenwick?’ Eliza said casually and the next minute wished she hadn’t, for Ada’s composure crumbled.

  ‘No,’ she said, her voice hardly above a whisper. ‘Eeh, Eliza, I don’t know what to think. If he’d been killed I’m sure I would have found out; anyway, I would have known inside myself.’ Ada lifted her face to Eliza, her eyes wide with fear and tears close. ‘Eliza,’ she asked, ‘Eliza, do you think he just doesn’t want me any more? Eeh, Eliza, it’s months since he wrote to me, months.’

  Eliza rose to her feet and moved swiftly to Ada’s side. ‘Nay, lass, it won’t be that. No, I’m sure there’ll be another reason.’ She put her arm around Ada’s thin shoulders and fell silent for a while.

  ‘I tell you what,’ she said at last, ‘you have the address of those relations of his in Middlesbrough, don’t you? They’ll still live there, I’m sure they will. Why don’t you write to them, like? It can’t do any harm, just ask them if they know how he is getting on.’