War Orphans

by Lizzie Lane

  Harry lay with his head between his paws, not even looking up when Sally scratched his head. It was as though he knew they were on a particularly important mission, Sally thought to herself.

  As they approached the orphanage gates, Sally was overcome with a need to break the silence. ‘Do they know we’re coming?’

  ‘I phoned to say I was coming. I did not state my reason. Nor did I say that I was bringing company with me or that I would be bringing papers with me that would put an end to their cosy little world!’

  Woe betide anyone who gets in her way, thought Seb. Boudicca had a chariot with knives on the wheels; Amelia had a sharp tongue and a piercing look.

  Amelia poked the car’s snub-nosed bonnet into the recess in front of the main gates, put on the handbrake and got out.

  A young woman with soft brown eyes and a worried expression appeared in answer to the jangling of the wrought-iron bell pull.

  Seb opened his window a fraction and strained forward to hear.

  ‘Lady Ambrose! I didn’t know you were coming, but I’m so glad you are here.’

  ‘Nice to see you, Miss Baker. Might I ask you a few questions?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Amelia got out of the car, standing head to head with the young woman she’d addressed as Miss Baker.

  Their conversation was animated and although Seb did his best, his hearing wasn’t as good as it used to be.

  Amelia got back behind the steering wheel and the young woman opened the main gate so she could drive the car through.

  ‘Right,’ declared Amelia. ‘Into the breach my friends!’

  Seb glanced over his shoulder at Sally, their eyes meeting in mutual agreement that her ladyship sounded even more determined.

  ‘Is she a friend or an enemy?’ Seb asked her.

  ‘That was Miss Baker, the schoolteacher. She was about to jump ship but I’ve asked her to stay until things are sorted out. And in answer to whether she’s a friend or an enemy, she’s actually a witness. It’s not just her job at the orphanage that’s numbered, it’s the orphanage itself!’

  Sally looked over her shoulder. Miss Baker had left the gates open and was smiling as she followed them up the drive to the house. Sally guessed that she had broken a rule. Whatever it was, she was certainly looking very pleased about it.

  Whoever was waiting behind the door had no doubt heard the car approach.

  They all got out, leaving Harry on the back seat, though he was no longer lying down but sitting up, his eyes bright as though he knew the reason they were there and that Joanna was close by.

  They were shown into the principal’s office where the smell of recently eaten food caused Sally to wrinkle her nose.

  ‘Lady Ambrose!’ Miss Portman gushed welcome as her pudgy hands pushed her up from her desk. Her fat face was shiny with grease and Sally detected a sly sharpness in her piggy eyes.

  Miss Thorpe also got to her feet, her jaw dropping as she recognised Sally from their brief meeting at the hospital.

  Not noticing the alarm on the face of the children’s welfare officer, Miss Portman went on unperturbed.

  ‘I’ve arranged tea and biscuits.’ Her eyes took in Seb and his daughter. ‘Though I was only expecting one person . . .’

  Her voice trailed away.

  Amelia refrained from introducing them. ‘We’ll come to them later. They’re only half the reason I’m here.’

  There was a loud thud as Amelia slammed her attaché case onto the desk. She lost no time in bringing out the manila folder.

  ‘I have here a set of accounts that passed between this orphanage and the child welfare office.’

  The sheets of lined accounts paper were fanned out on the desk.

  The colour drained from Miss Thorpe’s face. She’d wondered why she’d been summoned here today. The reason was now abundantly clear.

  The principal did her best to maintain a fixed smile, but Sally detected a worried look in her eyes.

  ‘According to these records, Stanleybridge Orphanage has had twenty children placed here over the last six months when the council specifically ordered the establishment needed a thorough upgrade before any children were placed here. However, on checking the records, I see that the five-pound foundling fee was paid by the council for each of these children, yet none of that money shows in the orphanage accounts.’

  Miss Thorpe attempted to explain. ‘There was no room anywhere else and—’

  Amelia turned accusing eyes on the trembling woman. ‘And each of those children were placed here by you, Miss Thorpe. Nobody else. Can you explain what happened to each of those five-pound placement fees?’

  Miss Thorpe’s face reddened. Even Miss Portman looked taken aback, though only momentarily. Thinking it might be possible to lay all the blame at Miss Thorpe’s door, she turned her fat neck and said, ‘Jane! Surely there is some explanation.’

  She turned back to see Amelia wearing an expression capable of turning flesh to salt. ‘I have just said I have also a copy of the orphanage accounts to hand.’ Her tone was cutting.

  ‘They’re none of your business!’ declared Miss Portman, her pink face turning crimson.

  ‘They are my business both as a member of the governing body, a councillor and, just as a little extra, a magistrate. You will recall it is required that a copy of the orphanage accounts is required to be submitted each year. This year they were a little early. You’re in trouble – both of you!’

  Recognising they were beaten, the two women put on a show of distancing themselves from each other.

  Miss Thorpe pointed at the principal. ‘It was her fault! She put me up to it!’

  Miss Portman’s fat hands slapped the desk. ‘Judas! It was you. You were the greedy one! Always after more and here as soon as you knew the five pounds had been paid.’

  A thin stick of a woman chose that moment to come in with a tray of tea. She had a sour expression that seemed to wrinkle on detecting the atmosphere she’d walked into.

  ‘And now for the other matter. A child was brought here who had already been offered a home with Mr Hadley and his daughter. Their offer was rejected.’

  Miss Thorpe immediately jumped in.

  ‘Well, he is of a certain age and she is unmarried. What would she know about children?’

  ‘She is a teacher! Joanna Ryan’s teacher, in fact. She’s ideal to foster and later to adopt the child and, before you argue, might I suggest that the five-pound foundling fee swayed your decision, not the suitability or otherwise of these good people?’

  The thin woman with the tea was backing towards the door, a frightened look on her face. Before she could get much further, Miss Baker, the teacher they’d met at the gate, appeared in the doorway to provide a barrier for any further retreat.

  She looked beyond Miss Ogden addressing Amelia directly. ‘Joanna tried to escape. They’ve locked her away.’

  Seb and Sally, alarmed at how it might affect Joanna, were up in a minute. ‘Do you know where?’

  Miss Baker shook her head. ‘No, I’m afraid not. They have a variety of grim punishment places.’ She shook her head. ‘That poor child. This place is straight out of Dickens.’

  Seb was already at the front door, Sally behind him. Amelia ordered Miss Portman and Miss Ogden to get their things together.

  ‘And you stay where you are,’ she ordered Miss Thorpe.

  When they got outside, Harry was barking excitedly and pawing at the car windows.

  ‘Go on, boy,’ shouted Seb opening the car door.

  Harry bounded out and ran as fast as his little legs could go, his tongue hanging out between bouts of excited barking.

  Behind the door of the outhouse Joanna heard his barking and lifted her head.

  ‘Harry?’

  The barking continued.

  ‘Harry! Harry!’

  Soon he was scratching at the wooden door of the shed.

  The door burst open and there they were, the people who loved her and, most
of all, there was Harry.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Amelia drew in her chin so it rested against the thick neckline of the man’s jumper she was wearing.

  ‘Everything is arranged,’ she said quietly. ‘Joanna is coming home with you. I’ve persuaded the committee that you’re the right people to take her in. Fostering at first until we see how things go, then adoption.’

  Seb swiped at his eyes. He’d never believed in tears of happiness but he did now.

  ‘All’s well that ends well,’ remarked Sally.

  ‘This is not quite the end scene. There’s still the paperwork to deal with.’

  Sally shook her head in disbelief. ‘I really don’t know how you did it, I really don’t.’

  Amelia laughed. ‘Once the serious provisions were being considered, I told the department that I did not dispute that a child needs a good education and the company of children of their own age. I pointed out to them she was a bright child and had been doing very well at school until she was taken away. She also had schoolfriends she was still in contact with. All she needed was love and that is where you and your father come in.’ A secretive look lit up Amelia’s face. ‘I believe you and your father really will make her life complete – and Harry of course.’

  Sally’s gaze travelled to a group of girls hanging out of the front doors of the main house. They were oddly silent at first, but then began to cheer.

  ‘And Stanleybridge? What will happen to the children?’

  A self-satisfied smile lit up Amelia’s face. ‘You might say I have carte blanche to deal with this place and its unfortunate inmates. I have advised the council to dismiss the principal and also that Thorpe woman. An interim replacement has been arranged until some new blood is introduced. As yet I haven’t broached the subject, but do you think you’re up to the job, Sally? I mean as a live-in teacher. We could really do with that. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I think you and your father could really help turn these children’s lives around. What do you say?’

  Sally’s jaw dropped. Lady Amelia Ambrose was nothing if not forthright.

  ‘Well!’ Sally heaved a big sigh. Amelia’s proposal had taken her by surprise. ‘You certainly don’t beat about the bush.’

  ‘Never could stand prevaricating. Get to the point. That’s me.’

  ‘So I’ve noticed. But I’m only a teacher, I haven’t had this kind of training.’

  ‘You deal with children every day and they love you. I think that’s training enough, whether it’s in a school inside or outside this place. The children’s lives will improve. I guarantee it. Oh, there’s just one other thing. I’ll be on site too.’

  ‘I thought you might be,’ she said laughingly. ‘A lovely place for animals.’

  ‘I didn’t think you’d want the paperwork or the responsibility of actually running the place. That lot has fallen to me. I’m of the right age and right credentials. My father was a bit of a philanthropist. He gave a lot of his wealth to this kind of establishment and insisted I knew something about running them. He was old-fashioned and expected his children to learn from the bottom up, so to speak!’

  Sally was speechless.

  Amelia carried on. ‘I’ve spotted a little cottage in the grounds and there are bags of outbuildings. The War Office can have my place for the duration, I’ll have this one. More room for more animals. Until the war ends, then we’ll see what we shall see as regards this old place and the children in it.’

  ‘You don’t think we can find homes for the children?’

  Amelia shook her head. ‘The bombing’s barely started. There’s going to be more orphans in need of a home. The authorities are going to be stretched as to where to put them, which means we’re going to be busy.’

  The days following Joanna being rescued swept past in a blur of activity and hope.

  People listened to Lady Amelia Ambrose-DeVere, not just because she was titled but because she got things done and knew how to do things properly and with integrity. Things could not have worked out so well if it hadn’t been for her.

  There was just one more thing that would make everything quite perfect.

  Sally rebuked herself for feeling slightly ungrateful. Yes, she liked the idea of helping Amelia to run Stanleybridge, and so did her father, who was to be employed as grounds man and gardener.

  ‘Plenty of room for growing vegetables, and flowers. I miss flowers,’ he said soulfully. ‘Might as well add a bit of colour to the old place. And the children could help.’

  Amelia’s ulterior motives regarding requisitioning part of the orphanage’s extensive grounds to house abandoned cats and dogs came as no big surprise to Seb either.

  ‘The children will love it. And so will Joanna and Harry. This old place is going to change for the better. The kids might all be orphans but they’ll be happy here.’

  Sally certainly couldn’t argue with that.

  Everything was perfect and she should be supremely happy. Instead, the hole that remained in her life woke her in the middle of the night.

  There had been no word from Pierre except for that letter received just before her ladyship had informed her that he was married. She’d replied anyway, not that it was likely to have reached him, things being the way they were.

  Lying there in the dead of night she tried to visualise where he might be.

  Some people claimed to have psychic powers where loved ones were concerned, knowing instinctively whether they were dead or alive.

  Such things are nonsense, she told herself. You didn’t wake up because you thought you heard him call you, you woke because you’ve got things on your mind. Including him.

  Of course she did. Psychic powers were nonsense, she told herself. She felt no sense of either his well-being or his whereabouts. All she did was visualise him hidden in a hay barn, perhaps staggering over a mountain pass or dirty, wet and tired on a leaking boat in the middle of the sea.

  No word. No letter. Nothing.

  The visions she had of him were nothing but the residue of hopeful dreams.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  On first being shown her bedroom Joanna had stood round-eyed she tried to take in what she was being told. ‘Should I really be here?’

  Sally frowned and smiled at the same time. ‘Of course. You’re part of the family now.’

  Joanna looked puzzled. ‘But what about the others? Will they become part of a family too?’

  Sally shook her head. ‘I wish I could say it will happen, but there are so many children who’ve lost their parents, so many homes destroyed. All we can do is to make their lives as comfortable and happy as possible.’

  Joanna looked down at the floor as the harsh memories of her first night at Stanleybridge came back. The girls in that draughty attic bedroom, the niggardly food portions and the cruel treatment meted out for a nervous child wetting the bed.

  Sally bent down so her face was level with that of Joanna’s.

  ‘We can’t fit all the girls into this wing of the house, but they’re still under the same roof. They’ll be better looked after than they’ve ever been. We can’t adopt them all into our small family, but we can make this a happy home, all of us under one roof.’

  Sally’s smile was reassuring. The tension left Joanna’s shoulders but a quizzical look came to her eyes. ‘Does this mean Seb is my father?’

  ‘Your adoptive father. Yes.’

  Joanna’s mouth puckered into another question, one that had sprung into her mind and was as bright as a buttercup. ‘Does this mean you’re my sister?’

  Sally smiled. ‘Yes, I suppose it does.’

  * * *

  The grey days of winter slowly but surely turned into spring. Wildflowers brightened pieces of waste ground that had not yet been put under the plough. Flowers had disappeared from many gardens, each individual doing their best to produce food to feed the nation, or at least their own families. On top of that the railings from around Victoria Park had also disappeared, the metal
required to make aircraft so they’d been told.

  The spring of 1941 brought brighter weather but the bombing of British cities, especially London, grew ever more intense.

  Everything seemed to be sprouting and that included Joanna and Harry. Joanna was filling out and her cheeks were rosy now she was getting enough food. The scared look had vanished from her eyes, at least during daytime. Being locked in dingy places no longer posed a threat, but the experience would take some time to get over.

  Harry was no longer the floppy puppy he’d been when she’d first found him in the stream that day a year and a half ago. He had grown into a handsome dog, and although Joanna was his closest friend he found time for the other kids too, in fact, he was in his element. Harry loved all those who loved him.

  Seb had thrown himself into making the extensive gardens and greenhouses around the sombre-looking house productive again. An army of adoring assistants helped him in this task.

  ‘Any of you done gardening before?’ he’d asked.

  Some nodded but the majority, kids from London’s docklands, shook their heads. Just the look of them touched Seb’s kind heart. Judging by their scabby faces they hadn’t eaten vegetables for a very long time, let alone seen them growing.

  One day he found Joanna fingering the petals of a bright yellow daffodil, a faraway look in her eyes.

  He laid his hand on her shoulder. ‘Penny for your thoughts.’

  She didn’t look up at him. In fact, her head drooped further.

  ‘What’s the matter? Come on. Out with it.’

  When she looked up at him he could see her eyes were tear-filled. ‘There weren’t no flowers on my dad’s grave.’

  Seb looked surprised. ‘None?’

  Joanna shook her head, her small lips quivering as she turned her gaze back to the dancing daffodils. ‘Elspeth said we had to go to the funeral so we’d get the money. Other people took flowers, but she didn’t.’

  Seb felt the pain Joanna was feeling. His sharp eyes, shadowed by thick white eyebrows, looked over her head to a pretty little spot beneath a birch tree. The trunk of the tree glistened silver in the pale sunlight. In front of it was the remains of a stone cross, its features weathered and softened by rain. Rumour had it there used to be an abbey here at one time.