War Orphans

by Lizzie Lane

  He’d had a mind to ring the base of the tree with bulbs which would have hidden the old cross from view. Now he had an idea.

  ‘How about we set up a memorial to your dad – and to your mum, for that matter. What say you I carve their names on that stone over there and we plant flowers in front of it?’

  Joanna looked up at him. ‘Does it matter that they’re not buried there?’

  ‘No.’ Seb shook his head. ‘They’re both in heaven. Both together now. So if their names are here and you’re remembering them, then that’s where they are. Wherever your heart is, that’s where they will be.’

  After finding a decent hammer and chisel, Seb etched the names of Joanna’s parents onto the old stone. Once it was finished he stood back from it to admire his handiwork. ‘Not a bad job,’ he murmured to himself.

  The flowers he’d planted would take some time to come up, so with that in mind he handed Joanna a large bunch of wildflowers interspersed with daffodils.

  ‘For you to lay in front of your mum and dad’s memorial,’ he said gently.

  Joanna took the bouquet in her trembling hand and looked up at him for guidance.

  ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Go and put them in front of their stone, so they’ll know you haven’t forgotten them.’

  Joanna swallowed nervously. ‘Aren’t you coming with me?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. They’re your parents and likely as not there’s plenty you want to say to them.’

  ‘Do you speak to your wife?’

  A lump came to Seb’s throat. ‘Every day. Everywhere.’

  Seb was enjoying himself because he was doing what he loved doing and the kids filled the hole in his life Grace had left when she’d died. He was doubly happy when a dozen yellow chicks arrived.

  ‘Every one’s a layer,’ he’d boasted, as he placed the fluffy yellow bundles in the wooden coop he’d built them, complete with a wire-covered run. The sturdy wooden structure was placed in a cosy corner of the barn, where an old horse Amelia had found abandoned chewed hay.

  Those who heard his declaration hoped he was right. A white egg with a yolk in the middle was a luxury, scrambled eggs made from the dried variety being the norm nowadays and not much liked.

  ‘I could live in here myself,’ Seb confided to his daughter as he surveyed the high rafters and the piles of hay and straw.

  ‘You have a bed in the house, Dad.’

  ‘I might have to sleep out here. There’s foxes to consider.’

  A range of pigsties at the rear of the property had been converted to house the overflow from Lady Amelia’s animal refuge. Two donkeys, a goat and a Shetland pony had joined the unending parade of dogs and cats left at her door. These munched their way through the orchard, where the long grass and fallen apples that hadn’t been found added to their diet.

  The Hadley house near Victoria Park had been let to people whose own home had been destroyed in a bombing raid.

  Despite her new surroundings, Sally still awoke in the middle of the night hearing her name being called. Sometimes the unmistakeable timbre of Pierre’s voice reverberated in her head, so strong, so believable, that she answered, ‘Pierre? Is that you?’

  There was never any reply.

  For a while she would lie there listening to the old house creaking and groaning as it settled down for the night.

  Tonight it was Joanna who woke her. ‘No! Let me out! Let me out!’

  Sally grabbed her dressing gown and raced along to Joanna’s room.

  The child was sitting up in bed, her eyes staring at the far wall.

  Sitting herself on the bed, Sally hugged her close.

  ‘It’s all right, Joanna. It’s all right, darling,’ she said, her soft fingers caressing Joanna’s head. ‘Did you have a bad dream?’

  Joanna’s eyes blinked into wakefulness as she looked up into Sally’s face.

  ‘I thought Elspeth was here. I thought she was going to lock me up in the dark.’

  Sally continued to smooth the girl’s hair as she laid her own head against that of the child.

  ‘Elspeth’s dead. She can’t hurt you any more, Joanna. Not ever.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  It turned out that Seb was right about foxes. The chicks were no longer small and fluffy but growing plump and sprouting feathers.

  Joanna and Harry walked with him to the barn, Joanna carrying chicken feed and Seb carrying a pail of water as there was no facility close by. Suddenly Harry shot off, barking loudly and heading straight for the barn’s wide open door.

  They saw a sudden flash of rusty red as the fox ran, belly close to the ground, Harry right behind him.

  ‘Just as I thought,’ muttered Seb. ‘He’ll be back. Seems tonight I’ll be swapping my bed for a bundle of hay.’

  Alarmed by what might have happened, Joanna counted the distressed chickens.

  ‘There’s one missing. Oh no! Oh no!’

  Seb turned at the sound of her dismayed voice. ‘Are you sure?’

  He counted himself then shook his head. ‘You’re right. Blast that fox!’

  Grumbling threats of what he would do when he found that fox, he found the place where the sly creature had stuck his snout into the chicken run followed by his sleek red body.

  More wire, a hammer and some nails and it was quickly repaired. All the same, he promised himself that he would definitely be out here tonight. ‘Don’t you worry,’ he told Joanna. ‘I won’t let him take another. I’ll be out here waiting for him.’

  Lady Amelia had given him a gun for just such an occurrence as this and Seb couldn’t wait to give it a go. It had been a long time since he’d fired a gun and swore he would never do so again until it was absolutely necessary. This was an occasion he deemed necessary.

  Sally was less convinced. ‘Are you really sure it’s the only way?’

  Seb assured her it was. ‘A fox will keep coming back until he’s had the lot – even if he isn’t hungry. He’ll bury them in the ground for when the hunting is scarce. Call it part of the war effort – conservation of food and all that.’

  ‘You’ll catch your death of cold.’

  Seb took no notice. Three days later he was in bed with a cold.

  ‘Stay there and drink your cocoa,’ Sally ordered him, though he grumbled and swore the fox would know if he wasn’t around. Her father did not make a good patient.

  Joanna sat on the end of his bed, Harry as usual at her side.

  ‘Are you sure he’ll be back,’ Joanna asked him, her arm looped around Harry’s neck.

  ‘Bound to be. And who’s going to deal with him if I’m not around? Tell me that, will you!’

  Sally folded her arms and sighed. Her father could be so stubborn. The orphanage had become his world and the animals were a very great part of it.

  Even Joanna couldn’t imagine living anywhere else now, though being adopted and living apart from the other children was difficult to get used to.

  Stanleybridge was changed beyond recognition and the new regime showed in the happy faces of their changes.

  Reassured of her situation. Joanna joined in with the others at play and attended the lessons provided by Sally and Miss Baker. Setting up a proper school was a provision her ladyship and the new children’s welfare officer had insisted on.

  Seb continued to grumble about the fox.

  Sally and Joanna, the latter having made the cocoa herself, looked at each other.

  Sally’s mind was made up. ‘I won’t sleep out there, but we have the gun if needs be. Will that suit you?’

  Joanna took all this in. She loved Harry most of all, but she also loved Sally and Seb. The Hadleys had taken her in and she owed them a lot. Perhaps this was the time to repay some of that kindness. Seb wasn’t well and needed to stay in bed.

  Her eyes danced when the idea popped into her mind. She would sleep out in the barn and Harry would sleep there with her. Together they would outsmart that wily old fox!

  She considered telling
Sally her plan but decided against it. Sally would not allow it, but if it meant Seb – her new dad – staying in bed, then surely it had to be a good idea.

  That night Joanna went upstairs to her own bedroom in the quarters set aside for the Hadleys, which took up one half of the west wing of the house.

  Joanna’s room was cosy with a pale pink rug and a window looking out over the orchard at the back of the house. There was a bathroom between her room and the one where Sally slept. Seb’s room was on the same side but a bit further along. A corridor ran between the bedrooms, a rank of windows looking out over the front of the house.

  Although Harry had his own basket, he slept on the end of Joanna’s bed. Tonight was no different.

  She didn’t know what time it was when she woke up until she heard the church clock striking three in the morning.

  Sometimes when she woke up it was because she was afraid that Elspeth was in the room and that she hadn’t really been killed when the bomb was dropped on the house. Despite Sally’s reassurances, her stepmother’s presence was only slowly fading away. Tonight she felt no such presence.

  ‘Shhh,’ she said, holding her finger against her lips. ‘We’re off to nab that fox, but you’ll have to be quiet.’

  Once she was sure everyone was asleep, she dressed quickly, grabbed a blanket and crept out. Holding her shoes in one hand so she wouldn’t make a noise, she negotiated the stairs and the door to the outside. Harry followed, sounding breathless with excitement.

  Thanks to the blackout, the house was in total darkness.

  A sudden creaking put Joanna on her guard. The sound seemed to come from overhead. Another followed that seemed to come from another quarter of the sprawling old house.

  In the dim light she saw Harry look up at her then wag his tail. She took a deep breath. If Harry wasn’t frightened then neither was she.

  Having had the presence of mind to put on her coat, she didn’t feel the cold. Once she’d put on her shoes she turned the handle on the door that led outside and made her way to the barn.

  The barn had big double doors at both end but a smaller one set into the stonework. This was the door Joanna would go through.

  The night air made her cheeks tingle and a slight breeze ruffled her hair and chilled her ears. She took out the torch in her pocket, turned it on and shone it towards the ground.

  Harry’s breath escaped in clouds of steam and his tongue flopped over his jaw.

  He wasn’t looking at her but with great interest at the door she was pulling open.

  Joanna had come to know her dog very well. She eyed him intently and whispered, ‘What’s up, boy?’

  Harry had gone rigid. He was looking straight ahead, the roots of his floppy ears seeming to tighten against his head. All the signs were there that Harry perceived something or someone was inside the barn that shouldn’t be there.

  ‘Is it the fox?’

  It surprised Joanna when she saw his stumpy tail wag once or twice, as though he were in two minds whether the intruder should be welcomed or sent packing.

  The darkness inside the barn was total, the smell of hay sweet and warm.

  The old horse nickered in a comfortable manner, as though to say he was happy and content and did they really have to disturb him at this time of night?

  ‘It’s all right, Benny. It’s only us.’ Joanna called to him in a low voice as she closed the door behind her.

  She had earmarked a spot close to the roosting chickens where she could sleep in safety and warmth until the fox put in an appearance.

  She hadn’t brought a gun but she had brought Harry. Harry was a hero. He would know exactly what to do and the fox would run away.

  She flashed her torch over the chicken run, apprehensive in case the despicable creature already been and taken another bird. To her great relief nothing had been disturbed. The chicken wire was still taut where Seb had carried out the repair.

  A grunting snort, something like the sound Seb made when he woke up from dozing, came from the stack of straw bales piled next to Benny’s stall.

  In response the horse whinnied and stamped his feet.

  Up until now Joanna had felt excited at the prospect of sleeping out. Now she wondered if it had been such a great idea after all.

  ‘Harry,’ she whispered. ‘Where are you?’

  Straw rustled and suddenly there was a rustling sound, as though bales of straw were tumbling down.

  Harry began to bark, a long outpouring of barks, sharp, high and excited.

  The fox, thought Joanna. He is here! He is really here! What would she do if it came her way?

  Harry. Harry will deal with it.

  ‘Be brave,’ she said to herself, focusing the torch to where the piles of hay and straw were stored. Among the bales she perceived a dark shadow, close to the ground at first, then suddenly rising up from the tumbled bales.

  Elspeth! Elspeth has found her!

  Joanna screamed and dropped the torch. Harry barked frantically, his legs darting in and out of the beam of light.

  Up at the house, Sally heard the frantic barking and got out of bed, reaching for her dressing gown and searching out her slippers with her feet.

  A distinctive bark. Harry!

  The dogs in the kennels joined in, at first one or two, then a cacophony of sound.

  Sally rushed out onto the landing knowing before she even got there that her father had also heard the noise. So had some of the other members of staff and children, flowing in a human tide down the stairs.

  Seb was out on the landing in his pyjamas, a hat on his head and his feet bare. He was carrying the shotgun. Sally grabbed it off him.

  ‘Oh no you don’t! Get back to bed this minute.’

  ‘That fox!’

  ‘I’ll get him.’

  ‘You’ll miss.’

  Sally won the battle for the gun. The fox had to be dealt with, but as she headed into the dim light at the top of the stairs a more important thought hit her. It was Harry she’d heard first. Wherever Harry was there also was Joanna!

  ‘Where’s Joanna?’

  Seb understood her meaning and immediately flung open Joanna’s bedroom door and switched on the light. Her bed was empty.

  ‘I’ll get my coat.’

  Gun broken down so it wouldn’t go off accidently, Sally tucked it under her arm and headed downstairs. Just before she reached the barn she snapped the two halves firmly together, clenched her jaw and prepared to shoot the intruder.

  As she reached the barn door, the noise from the kennels fell away and she could no longer hear Harry barking his head off.

  She slipped inside the barn, her heart dancing the samba.

  She couldn’t see a thing. Damn it! She’d forgotten to bring a torch.

  ‘Who’s there? Come out or I’ll shoot.’

  Not realising her mouth was dry, the words came out rasped when she’d meant it to be shouted. Her hands shook as she aimed the gun, her finger wavering on the trigger.

  ‘Get down, Joanna. I’m going to fire!’

  ‘Don’t do that!’

  Somebody crashed into her, knocking her off balance.

  The gun went off, the muzzle springing upright. Feathers floated down and a barn owl squawked before it bid a hasty retreat. Harry yelped and Joanna cried out.

  A pair of strong hands wrenched the gun from Sally’s grasp. ‘I think I had better take this.’

  Sally had the immediate urge to pinch herself. Was she in a dream? She hadn’t heard that voice for so long. ‘Pierre!’

  He brought up the torch Joanna had brought with her, which he’d retrieved from the floor. The light endowed their faces with deep shadows and gold light. His kiss was instant, failing to give her the chance to even check her breath let alone to ask questions.

  Voices, some excited, some questioning, sounded from outside.

  ‘Harry! Where’s Harry?’

  ‘Where’s Joanna?’

  Lines of tiredness were etched into Pie
rre’s face made more severe in the light of the torch. His mouth was still voluptuous, his eyes somehow darker. Later he would tell her he’d seen things he never wished to see again. But for now he nodded at the scene outside the barn door.

  ‘I think we need to see what’s going on out there.’

  The children and staff who’d gathered outside lifted paraffin lanterns and torches. Joanna appeared, but she looked frantic. ‘I don’t know where Harry is!’

  Everyone wanted to know if Sally had shot the fox and the identity of the tramp standing at her side.

  ‘No fox,’ said Pierre. ‘Only me.’

  ‘Are you hurt?’ It was a small girl who asked, her eyes as round as marbles.

  ‘Trust me. I am not hurt. Not at all.’

  Seb entered the barn still wearing his pyjamas and hat, plus his trusty work boots.

  Joanna was calling for Harry who was nowhere to be seen. The other kids began doing the same, a chorus of ‘Harry’s rising into the night.

  ‘Well,’ said Seb before noticing Pierre. ‘I’m going to write to that farmer who’s been after buying Harry as a gun dog.’

  A multitude of sucked in breaths followed. Surely he wasn’t going to let the farmer have Harry.

  Pierre shone the torch onto Seb’s animated face.

  Seb grinned. ‘Harry can’t be a gun dog. Looks like he’s run off. Obviously he’s none too keen on the sound of guns.’

  Sally gripped Pierre’s hands, noting how rough they felt and how tired he looked. ‘What are you doing out here? Why didn’t you come up to the house?’

  ‘It’s been a long journey. I’ve been out of touch so I went to Ambrose House first but found it requisitioned by the War Office. I found out my aunt was here and so were you. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I’m here.’

  He hugged her so tightly she could barely breathe, her face tight against his shoulder. Sally closed her eyes and said his name over and over again.

  His explanation poured into her ear. ‘I was determined to get here but didn’t arrive until about an hour ago. I did not wish to wake anyone up at this time of night. I intended sleeping in the barn until the morning.’