War Orphans

by Lizzie Lane

  When she turned on the bicycle lamp Harry attempted to catch the circular beam it threw on the floor, patting it with his paws, dancing from one leg to the other when she moved the lamp and the beam moved too.

  Joanna laughed at his antics. She laughed here in this shed more than she had ever laughed at home, more even than she had ever laughed at school.

  Once he’d eaten his fill and finished playing, Joanna settled him down among the dry sacks in the seed box. When she’d first placed him here he’d fallen asleep quite quickly, but he was getting older now, and his energy increasing accordingly.

  Joanna looked up at the window. She’d had the foresight to cover it with yet another old sack just as everyone was doing because of the blackout. In her case it wasn’t so much about German bombers seeing her. Occasionally a man might come down to inspect his allotment following a hard day at work and she greatly feared being discovered. She would do everything in her power to ensure that Harry did not meet the same fate of so many other animals.

  December was approaching. Twilight seemed to begin around three thirty in the afternoon and all was pitch black by five o’clock.

  Before the imposition of the blackout, streetlamps would have lit her way home, orange halos piercing the darkness. A little light would even have filtered down from the street lamps on the road running above the allotments, falling like strips of gold cloth from amber globes. Since the outbreak of war the world had turned more densely black than it had ever done before.

  Now there was only darkness and because of this and Harry’s increased exuberance she was arriving home later and later. With sudden panic she realised tonight she would be later home than ever. Hurrying was impossible. The only way she might gain more speed was if she took the bicycle lamp to light her way.

  She wasn’t sure of the time but knew this was something she had to chance. Once she’d reassured herself that Harry was asleep, she picked up the lamp, shut the door firmly behind her and hurried up the slope.

  The lamp’s flickering glow picked up the shininess of the frost-covered cobbles. Her feet slid, but she hurried towards home, her breath turning to steam before hanging like ice in the frozen air.

  Worries about Harry stayed with her all the way home. Would he be warm enough? She thought about his silky coat and the sack she’d covered him with. Hopefully he would be fine, though his water was bound to turn to ice. Never mind, she thought to herself. I can deal with that in the morning.

  She’d taken to going down to light the fire and put the kettle on half an hour earlier than usual. One advantage of this that she had not considered was that it gave her the opportunity to grab something to eat before her stepmother came down. Not bacon or eggs, which would be instantly remarked upon, but a slice of dry bread fried in fat saved from the meal the night before. She even managed to grab herself the first cup of tea from the pot, carefully washing the teacup afterwards so the evidence wouldn’t be so obvious. Her stepmother would be drinking from the same teacup but would not know that. It was a small triumph but pleased Joanna no end.

  By the time she got to the bottom of The Vale, she knew she was in for it. Although all the shops at the bottom of the hill would be in darkness anyway, she knew by looking at the shop doors that they were closed for the night. She was very, very late!

  The hill was steep but she ran as fast as she could, her legs kicking out behind her. She was a good runner but The Vale was steep, so steep that buses refused to go up there following a fall of snow or a thick layer of ice.

  Here, where houses and hedges protected them, the pavements were less icy than the cobbles leading up from the allotments. She didn’t slip but she did get breathless.

  By the time she pushed open the front gate her breath was coming in quick, snatched gasps. The door was left on the latch as usual – few people in the street ever locked their doors, a habit they’d brought with them from the Victorian back to backs in the heart of the city.

  Elspeth was standing in front of the fireplace when she went in, her lips turning ruby red as she applied the tip of a fresh new tube of lipstick.

  ‘About bloody time,’ she shouted.

  Joanna kept the dining table between them. The dining table was square and filled the middle of the room. Two armchairs sat either side of the fireplace and a settee behind her. A nice smell wafted in from the kitchen. Had her stepmother turned over a new leaf and prepared an evening meal?

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t know it was so late.’

  It was best to be like a mouse when Elspeth was having a tantrum and she didn’t want her asking any awkward questions, get suspicious and beat the truth out of her. Not that she would ever tell. Not now she had Harry.

  ‘There’s stew in the kitchen. Help yourself. I’m off out.’

  So that was the smell. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Don’t thank me. It was that daft old cow next door. “Made too much,?” she said. “Would you like some,” she said. “Would your lovely little daughter like some.”’

  Elspeth had nothing but contempt for Mrs Allen next door even though the old lady occasionally handed a pot of stew, pork bones or a slice of fruitcake over the back fence.

  Joanna’s spirits leapt at the thought of pork bones, a little bit extra for a growing dog.

  Elspeth pushed past the table, her scarlet fingernails flashing as she reached for the door.

  ‘Things are going to be different in future, my girl,’ she said, pointing one scarlet nail in Joanna’s direction. ‘Tomorrow I’m starting a job so you’ll have to fend for yourself. So get used to it. Starting from now!’

  Joanna didn’t dare say that for most of the time she fended for herself anyway. Her stomach was churning. As usual, she had saved some of her school dinner for Harry and today, of all days, there had been no chance of having a second helping, in fact, there was barely enough to go round.

  ‘Are you going to work now?’ Joanna asked timorously.

  Glassy eyes glared from Elspeth’s painted face. Her bright red lips parted in a contemptuous smile. ‘No, you silly bitch. I’m off to celebrate. And make sure you do the dishes before I get back or you’ll be gettin’ what for. Is that clear?’

  Joanna nodded that she understood. She stayed very still until she heard the slamming of the front door then the squeak of the rusty springs on the garden gate before it clanged shut. Even her grumbling stomach couldn’t send her running to the kitchen, not until she heard those distinctive sounds. She was home alone and she couldn’t have been happier.

  After helping herself to a large portion of stew and a chunk of bread, washed down with a cup of tea, she began the dishes.

  There weren’t many and her stepmother had had the good grace to leave two chop bones on the edge of the plate. No stew for her stepmother, then. The butcher in North Street was always giving her bits of extra meat.

  ‘Fancy a nibble on a nice pork chop, Mrs Ryan? Or how about a couple of fat sausages? One for tonight and one for tomorrow night.’

  His suggestions were always accompanied by a salacious wink. Joanna took it that his comments were some kind of joke. If it was she didn’t understand it.

  Normally Joanna would gnaw on whatever Elspeth had left on the side of the plate. Tasting meat was a rare occurrence since her father had gone away.

  On this occasion the chop bones ended up wrapped in a piece of newspaper. She also found some broken biscuits at the bottom of the tin, though she was careful not to take too many in case her stepmother noticed. Elspeth only always ate whole biscuits. The broken ones were for Joanna though she was expected to make them last. The bones from Elspeth’s plate would form Harry’s breakfast in the morning along with a small sliver of cheese rind and a spoonful of pork dripping. There were also the bones from Mrs Allen’s stew which she would place within the puppy’s reach in case he got hungry.

  Once the dishes were done and everything for Harry was safely stored in her satchel, Joanna made her way up the stairs to bed.

 
; She was careful not to turn the light on without drawing the blackout curtains. Once she’d switched it off she opened them again, her face glowing in the silver light of the moon, her eyes scanning the stars, the only lights she could see.

  Before the blackout had been imposed she used to gaze out of that window, wishing she could be far away from The Vale. She’d read of faraway places with strange-sounding names but had never been anywhere except a Sunday school trip to Weston-super-Mare. It had rained most of the day, but she hadn’t cared. The distant horizon was spread out before her and she couldn’t help wondering what was beyond.

  In the morning she woke up early, washed, dressed and went downstairs to light the fire. She’d already laid the kindling on top of screwed-up newspaper so it was just a case of fetching coal from where it was stored in the cupboard beneath the stairs. The door to the coalhouse was next to the kitchen, a big improvement on the lot of some people who still had to bring it in from outside. The coalman had to come through the house to tip it in but everyone in The Vale, unless they were the end ones on a block of four which had a side entrance, had to endure the same.

  Joanna shuddered as she lifted the door latch. For a moment she could go no further forward. She’d been shut in there so many times. She could cope when the light from the kitchen flooded through the open door onto the heaps of black coal. The times she was locked in there when all was darkness were an entirely different matter.

  By the time Elspeth put in an appearance the fire was lit and the tea was made.

  Her stepmother was still wearing her dressing gown. The remains of red lipstick were smeared around her lips and congealed lumps of mascara hung from her eyelashes. A cigarette drooped from the corner of her mouth and her dressing gown gaped open, revealing what looked like purple pinches on her breasts.

  Seeing Joanna’s gaze, Elspeth slapped a hand across the back of her head.

  ‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re staring at?’ Her voice was coarse and loud as she pulled the gaping garment around herself. ‘They’re just bruises. That’s all they are. Right? Just bruises. I bumped into a door. Several doors.’ She grinned as she said it and then laughed.

  Joanna had experienced enough bruises in her time to know her stepmother was lying. The purple marks were very much like the purple blotches that came up on your arm if you sucked it long enough. The older girls at the big school in Marksbury Road called them love bites. She dared not ask if that was the case.

  Bowing her head she shrugged her shoulders into her coat. The multi-coloured knitted scarf she wound around her neck had been knitted by Mrs Allen from odd bits and pieces. Joanna pulled on her wellington boots, the only footwear that didn’t pinch her toes. The day was too wet to wear the second-hand shoes purchased at the same time as the coat.

  Elspeth went out in the kitchen to pour herself a cup of tea and fry herself some bacon. Two fresh rashers had been placed in the pan. Two slices of bread were already cut. Joanna knew better than not to have Elspeth’s breakfast ready.

  ‘It’ll have to be earlier next week,’ Elspeth shouted after her. ‘I’m on early shifts.’

  Joanna reached for her satchel and headed for the door, relieved to be going outside whatever the weather might be. She was also relieved her stepmother would require her breakfast earlier next week. It would give her more time to gather things for Harry’s breakfast.

  ‘Just a minute. I want a word with you.’

  Joanna stopped in her tracks and did her best to look innocent as she placed her hand over her satchel.

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  Even though Elspeth couldn’t possibly see into her satchel, it was as though the bones, the biscuits and the other bits and pieces had jumped out and were dancing on her shoulders.

  Elspeth’s smeared lips widened into a self-satisfied smile. ‘I’m on early shifts next week but late shifts today. Do you understand what that means?’

  Joanna waited expectantly.

  ‘What it means, you stupid kid, is that I won’t be here when you get home, so feed yourself, wash up, and don’t wait up. I begin my new job this afternoon. We get given our shift schedules one month in advance. This means working tonight as well.’

  Joanna said nothing, her eyes as round as marbles in the pallor of her face, her fear replaced by relief. Her mouth was too dry to say anything.

  Elspeth peered at her through a pall of cigarette smoke. Her smile slackened. ‘Well, you could at least congratulate me.’

  Joanna swallowed and wasn’t sure what to say.

  ‘Will it be interesting?’ she asked in a small voice, hoping to God her comment met with favour.

  ‘I don’t suppose it will, but the money’s good. I would have preferred a job as usherette down the Rex.’ A dreamy look came to her face. ‘Three matinees a day, five days a week. I would have been seeing all the latest pictures before anybody else had the chance. Clark Gable, Gary Cooper, Errol Flynn, you name them I would’ve been seeing them. And Jean Harlow. People say I look like Jean Harlow. Now there’s a thing. A job at the Rex would have been nice. Still, I suppose in these times you’ve got to be grateful. And in any case, the factory pays better. I’ll probably be making bombs to dump on Hitler. Anyway, this factory job means I won’t be here when you get home for five nights of the week so you’ll have to manage without me. Any problems, go see the old bag next door. She’ll look after you. Got nothing better to do than poke ’er nose into other folks’ business. Just don’t go telling ’er anything about me. Right?’

  Joanna nodded. She wasn’t quite sure what secrets her stepmother required her to keep, but Mrs Allen was not a nosy person. She was kind and had twinkling eyes and was very generous with her cooking. If it hadn’t been for her she would have starved.

  It never occurred to Elspeth to question why her stepdaughter left for school when it was still dark and Joanna was thankful. Her stepmother was full of the new job and when she spoke of coming home late – very late – her eyes had gleamed with excitement.

  Joanna too was excited. The new job meant she wouldn’t have to worry about getting home late.

  That morning, despite the fact that it was still dark outside, she skipped her way down the garden path, too happy to care if she tripped over something or knocked into the dustbin.

  With her satchel slamming against her hip she ran all the way to the allotments, slipping and sliding on the frosty pavements and cobbles. Even the hard-baked mud paths around the allotment were capped with frost and the intermittent puddles slicked with a thin layer of ice, but she danced around them, glad to be out and extra glad that she’d have the house to herself this evening.

  Harry was wrestling with a sack that he’d managed to pull out of his bed, twisting his little head this way and that and growling as though the sack was a living thing.

  He left the sack in the heap the moment she entered, jumping up at her, sniffing at her satchel and wagging his rump and little stump so much she felt sure he would wag what little he had left.

  Once she was on her knees, he rained sloppy kisses upon her with his little pink tongue, jumping and dancing all over and around her.

  Joanna took out the lamb bones, the cheese rind, the scraping of dripping and the broken biscuits and placed them in a cracked plate she’d brought with her.

  Harry woofed all of it down without a moment’s hesitation, then continued to lick the plate, making it rattle as he pushed it around the floor with his tongue and his nose.

  Joanna took the sack he’d been wrestling and remade his bed. Once that was done, she refilled his water dish from the watering can which she had had the foresight to fill the night before.

  The chill light of a winter’s day had barely pierced the dirty window frame when she left.

  The bones and gravy from Mrs Allen’s stew she left within Harry’s reach. He tucked in immediately.

  ‘You have to make them last all day,’ she said to him.

  He continued to gnaw, sucking an
d chewing, completely oblivious of her presence.

  Joanna was worried. There was no food left in her satchel only the old bicycle lamp, a few school books and a clean piece of newspaper into which she could place a few scraps from her school dinner.

  She took more than she used to now, storing some of it in an old tea caddy she’d found inside the shed. The extra food was for Harry to eat on the weekend when the school was closed. She also poured him some milk from the third of a pint bottle she’d taken yesterday.

  Soon it would be Christmas and she would no longer be able to bring him food from her school dinner plate. Somehow she would have to store even more than she did for a weekend to last him over the whole of the Christmas season.

  ‘I shall store extra bits and pieces in the tea caddy,’ she told herself, but was not reassured by this decision. The fact was Harry was quickly growing bigger and eating more and more. Somehow she had to figure out a way to get hold of more food. She frowned at the prospect. There were so many plans and decisions to make. Sometime in the spring she had to teach him to walk on the lead, to let him out into the fresh air. She certainly couldn’t keep him indoors for ever.

  At the sound of his plaintive howl she looked nervously around her, casting her eyes over the vegetables the flowers and the fruit bushes. Harry wouldn’t eat anything she could see growing, but she had to do something or he would starve to death.

  ‘I have to go now,’ she said to him, holding his jowls as she gazed into his button bright eyes. ‘You’ll have to make those bones last all day until I come later. Promise me you will.’

  Harry whimpered.

  ‘Good,’ she said, kissing the top of his head. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  After carefully closing the door behind her, she set off down the path that would lead her back to the main road and eventually to school.