by Molly Green
Murray took her to a different café from the one she’d gone to with Iris. This one was more modern and the tables were farther apart. And it wasn’t so smoky, thank goodness. Murray helped her off with her jacket and settled her into a comfortable chair with a cushion.
‘What would you like?’
‘I’m dying for a cup of tea,’ June said. ‘It doesn’t sound very sophisticated but that’s what I would love.’
‘Who cares about being sophisticated?’ Murray laughed. It was a good sound. A strong, masculine sound. June felt a quiver run down her back.
‘Something to eat? A sophisticated cake, perhaps?’ he asked, giving her a cheeky wink as the waitress appeared.
June laughed. ‘Oh, no. Tea’s just fine.’
‘Not enough for a slim little thing like you,’ Murray said. He looked up at the waitress and smiled disarmingly. ‘Can you bring your best cream cakes for the lady?’
‘I’d honestly prefer something plainer,’ June said. ‘I told you I wasn’t sophisticated.’
‘Then two toasted and buttered teacakes, please. And be sure it’s real butter.’
‘We can’t always guarantee it, sir,’ the waitress told him, ‘but I’ll do my best.’ She hurried away.
Murray turned to her and she thought she would drown in his blue eyes. ‘What do you want to talk about, June?’
‘It’s hard to know where to start.’ June twisted the corner of the tablecloth without even realising. ‘Like I told you, there are two things. One is Matron, the other is Lizzie. And it’s Lizzie I’m much more concerned about.’
‘Is she a teacher or one of the children?’
‘Oh, sorry, of course you don’t know. She’s one of the newer children.’
‘Is she very naughty?’
‘No.’ June hesitated. ‘Well, she is a little, but it’s complicated. She’s been through a lot. She only arrived a few weeks before me, but she’s never mixed with the other children and has never spoken a word since. I would love to help her and I think I could if I was given the chance, but Matron won’t allow me to have any contact with her. So that makes Matron the second problem.’
‘Have you spoken about Lizzie to Matron?’
‘Oh, yes, several times. I always seem to infuriate her. I have different ideas to her on how to handle a child who’s still in deep shock. Both parents and her brother were killed in a fire. Lizzie was at her grandmother’s house, else she would definitely have gone like the others,’ June explained. Just saying the words made her bottom lip tremble.
‘So we have to think of how to persuade Matron to let you try to help the child?’
‘That’s exactly it. But I keep coming up blank.’
‘You’re probably quite short-staffed with the war, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, very,’ June said. She was finding it difficult to concentrate with those bright-blue eyes focused directly on her. ‘Matron’s finally realised that Hilda’s not capable of looking after Lizzie – she’s an untrained girl who I don’t think is terribly bright – but there’s no one else except me, which Matron won’t even consider. So now poor Lizzie has to sit in Matron’s office, which reeks of smoke, until Bertie the cook lets her stay in the kitchen for a change. It’s an awful situation.’
‘What happens when Matron has a day off?’
‘That’s what I asked her. She says she rarely has time off and if she does she’ll ask Iris, who you met at the dance, to watch her. Iris is a nurse but she’s too busy at the moment with all the coughs and colds and minor emergencies to spend a lot of time with one child. I’m in the best position because although I have to help with all the children, I wouldn’t isolate Lizzie. She’d be part of the other children’s lives, mixing with them and taking her chance – just like they do. And I think she’d finally open up and start speaking, but she’ll remain dumb, I’m sure of it, if Matron carries on like this.’
June was suddenly struck with the thought that she’d rambled on too long and Murray would be bored.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t involve you in all this.’
‘No, don’t apologise. I’m glad you’re involving me.’ Murray put his hand over June’s and this time, instead of his leather glove, she could feel the warmth of his skin. She felt a glow of gratitude that she could talk freely to him and he seemed genuinely interested.
‘Let me think about it,’ Murray finally said, as the waitress came towards them with a full tray. ‘I’m sure we can come up with something.’
June liked the way he said ‘we’. It made her feel she wasn’t alone with her problems. Looking at his strong face and capable hands she felt he was bound to come up with a plan.
They talked of other things: books they’d read, their families, though June didn’t give too much away on hers. There were so many sad stories connected with them and she didn’t want to make their afternoon gloomy. In fact, she felt much more positive than she had since she’d started work at Bingham Hall. She’d find a way to help Lizzie – maybe with Murray’s help – and Matron would see the sense of it, and even if she grudgingly handed over the responsibility of Lizzie to her entirely, June wouldn’t mind at all. She only wanted the best for the child. The best for every child, but Lizzie was special. It shouldn’t have any influence, but Lizzie so much reminded June of Clara. Yes, Lizzie was the one who needed the most help right now.
‘The waitress managed to put real butter on the teacakes then,’ Murray said approvingly as he took a large bite of his bun.
‘They’re delicious.’ June bit off a rather more delicate piece. ‘Perfect with the tea.’
To her surprise Murray leaned across the table. His head was so close she could smell the soap he must have used before coming to meet her. For a split second she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he reached for the napkin. ‘You have a smear of butter on the top of your lip,’ he teased. ‘Let me get it.’
To June’s acute embarrassment he gently wiped it off. It seemed such an intimate gesture and yet it was nothing – nothing at all. So why was her stomach turning upside down?
‘There. All gone,’ Murray said grinning, as though he were talking to a child. He looked at his watch. ‘Oh, June, I’m so sorry, I have to go. They didn’t give me much time today as they’re really busy. But can I see you soon?’ Before she could answer he said, ‘You can’t say no because I just might have a plan for Lizzie by then.’
‘I wasn’t going to say no anyway,’ June said boldly. ‘I’ve enjoyed having tea with you.’
‘Next time I’ll take you somewhere a bit more glamorous,’ Murray promised. ‘To the kind of place you should be seen.’
‘Oh, no, I don’t bother about that sort of thing at all,’ June said quickly. ‘I don’t have to be impressed. I haven’t got the right clothes anyway for anywhere glamorous. All I really want is this war to be over and everyone get back to normal. And keep my job at Dr Barnardo’s.’
‘Things will never be as they used to be before this damned war.’ Murray stopped. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t swear in front of a lady.’
‘I don’t mind. I feel like swearing myself sometimes,’ June said, surprising herself by admitting it. ‘Men are lucky. They can vent their anger. Ladies are supposed to be ladies at all times. And it’s not always easy.’
‘I don’t suppose it is,’ Murray said, reaching for his coat, which he’d slung on the back of his chair. ‘But sometimes the boys get carried away and their language gets very colourful for my tender ears.’ He winked, and she knew he was teasing her.
‘It sounds as though you get on well with them.’
‘I do. They’re good chaps. But now the Americans are coming over it’ll change us – and I’m not sure for the better.’
‘I thought they already had – joined us in fighting the Germans, I mean,’ June said, and Chas immediately popped into her head.
‘No, they’re not coming till the end of January.’ Murray raised his eyes to the ceiling.
It struck her th
at Murray was not very happy with the idea.
‘But Chas—’
‘He came over early.’ Murray shrugged. ‘Volunteered, I believe, to get stuck in straightaway. He’s okay, I suppose. Oozes the charm … obviously comes from a wealthy family. Bit of a womaniser, I’d say.’
Handsome, confident, relaxed Chas. A womaniser. She wasn’t that surprised. She had to admit Chas would turn any girl’s head. But in a crisis she knew whom she would rather be with.
Sitting on the bus back to Bingham Hall, June went over her conversation with Murray. She had every faith he would come up with an idea to resolve the problem that loomed larger and larger in her mind, but they hadn’t been able to make a definite time to meet because he didn’t know when he’d have a few spare hours. She’d been adamant that he shouldn’t ring her at the home because of Matron. The woman would never let her hear the end of it.
‘I’ll think of a way,’ he’d promised as he held her for the briefest moment and she felt his lips gently brush her mouth.
‘Did you mind me kissing you?’ Murray’s eyes were anxious.
‘N-no, of course I don’t mind.’
How could she tell him that it had taken all her willpower not to fling her arms round his neck and beg him to kiss her again, only this time longer and deeper. Her cheeks reddened at the thought of what on earth he would say – worse, what he would think of her if she had. He would think she was a brazen hussy. That’s what Dad had called her that time when a boy in her class carried her satchel from school one day when she’d fainted in Assembly. She’d only been 13 and had had no idea what her father was talking about.
‘I hope we can meet soon, Junie.’ Murray looked into her eyes as though he was desperate to know what she was thinking. ‘May I call you that? It seems to suit you somehow.’
Iris, and now Murray.
‘Yes, you can call me Junie, if you like.’
June trudged down the lane and up the drive almost unaware of the cold drizzle which had started as soon as the bus had dropped her. It was already dark and she felt in her bag for her torch. She needed to get inside quickly before her shoes were ruined so she walked a little faster, the torch’s thin light illuminating only a few steps ahead. She half covered it with her hand, feeling a bit of an idiot, as though an enemy aeroplane might spot such a pathetic beam and strafe her. At last the heavy door was in sight and moments later she was safely in the hall where a fire roared away. She blew out her cheeks. It had been quite a day.
Chapter Eleven
‘June. Junie. Wake up! Please wake up. I—’
June came to with a start and bolted upright, her eyes wide.
‘Iris! Whatever’s the matter?’ But immediately she saw the expression on her friend’s face her heart began to beat wildly. Something was horribly wrong.
‘Oh, Junie. Lizzie’s not in her bed!’
Dear God, no.
‘Maybe she went to the toilet.’ June forced herself to say the words calmly.
‘No, I’ve looked. In fact, I’ve been all over the house.’
June sprang out of bed and hurriedly pulled on her skirt and jumper, which she’d left over the arm of the chair the previous evening. ‘How long do you think she’s been gone?’
‘I don’t know. I’m on nights and the last time I checked must have been about two hours ago. She was sound asleep then. So was Hilda, for that matter.’
Hilda again.
‘What time is it?’
‘After midnight,’ Iris said.
‘She might have gone outside.’ June looked at Iris, who was wearing her nurse’s uniform. ‘Let’s get our coats and check there first. If we don’t find her in the next half an hour we’ll have to telephone the police.’ June summoned up all her common sense, but inside she was sick with fear.
It was still snowing. No child would survive outside more than an hour without proper clothing.
‘Not on her own, surely.’ Iris sounded agitated. ‘She’d be too frightened. And anyway, how would she have got out?’
‘Maybe the back door from the kitchen was left open. Bertie forgot to lock it the other night.’ She flung her coat on and hurried to the door, Iris on her heels.
‘I’ve brought a blanket for Lizzie,’ Iris said as she caught up with June in the kitchen. ‘Oh, Junie, she could get pneumonia or frostbite or—’
‘We’ll find her,’ June cut in, ‘but let’s hurry. You go towards the drive and I’ll search round the back.’
Her words were whipped away by the wind as Iris flew off.
‘What’s going on, Miss?’
To June’s surprise Alan, who Barbara had mentioned was the class trouble maker, appeared at her elbow, already dressed in coat and hat.
‘You should be in bed, young man.’
‘I couldn’t sleep. I heard you and Nurse going up and down the stairs. I thought you were burglars.’
She was about to tell him to go back upstairs when she saw the concern in his eyes.
‘Lizzie’s not in her bed and we’re worried. If she’s out here she could catch pneumonia.’ A thought struck her. ‘Do you have a torch?’
‘A bigger one than yours, I betcha.’ Alan held out one of the hall lanterns. ‘This’ll find her. Good job we’re in the country. One lantern isn’t going to show the Germans where we are.’
What a sensible boy he was, June thought. ‘Keep within calling distance,’ she warned him. ‘I don’t want you to go wandering off and have to look for two children.’ She caught hold of his arm before he turned away. ‘Do you promise, Alan?’
‘Oh, all right, I promise.’
‘Have you any idea where she might be?’
‘No. Maybe she’s run away.’
Fear clutched June’s chest. If Lizzie was outside with no coat she’d freeze to death. They had to find her.
Her torch with its meagre light did little but she was thorough. She searched the sheds, all five of them, the Victorian greenhouses, all the outbuildings she could see. But there was no sign of a child. The children had been playing outside that morning and the snow was scuffed with their footprints. There’d been no new fall of snow so Lizzie’s footprints might or might not be muddled in with the other children’s.
June looked back at the house, but the blackout curtains had been drawn long ago. Alan’s whistles and calls sounded further away. She swallowed, praying Lizzie wasn’t out here. Wishing she’d changed into her warm boots she gave an involuntary shiver, and the hairs in her nostrils turned to icicles. It was an unpleasant feeling but she tried to ignore it and concentrate.
The top of her head felt icy cold. Why hadn’t she stopped to put a hat on? She wondered if she should go back for it, but that would use up more than five precious minutes. She’d have to bear it for Lizzie’s sake.
‘Miss! Miss!’ Alan’s voice was faint but she picked up the sound.
‘What is it, Alan?’
‘Miss, come here. Come and look.’
He’d found her. She knew it. And Lizzie … oh, she daren’t think any further.
‘I’m over here, at the back of the clocktower. Come on.’
She stumbled in the direction of Alan’s voice, thankful for a sliver of moon which just caught the face of the clock to guide her.
‘In this little barn,’ Alan called. ‘Where they keep the hens at night.’
Terrified of what she might see, June opened the barn door, which was already ajar. She’d never been in it before – didn’t even know it was there. Alan swung round, his lantern aloft, and to her joy he was smiling.
‘Here she is, Miss. Safe and sound.’
Lizzie was curled up in a corner amongst bales of straw sound asleep, three fingers in her mouth, her other arm clutching one of the hens.
‘Alan, you’re wonderful. What made you think of looking this far?’ She tried to hug him but he wouldn’t have it and backed away with embarrassment.
‘I didn’t. I heard the farm dogs barking from over here and thought I�
��d have a look inside. I think they were trying to tell me.’
June made her way stealthily over the barn floor.
‘Lizzie. Lizzie.’ She shook the child gently by the shoulder. Lizzie stirred. Gently she took the sleeping hen from Lizzie’s arm. ‘Lizzie, wake up. You need to come inside out of the cold.’
A pair of brown eyes suddenly opened, then went wide with terror as Lizzie realised she wasn’t in her bed. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. June raised the little girl into a sitting position. Lizzie’s silent sobs shuddered against her chest.
‘You had us all very worried, Lizzie,’ June said. ‘We wondered where you were. Why did you leave the nice warm nursery?’
Lizzie opened her mouth again, but this time a determined expression crossed her little heart-shaped face.
‘The snowman got losted – then Lizzie got losted.’
Chapter Twelve
June stretched out in the narrow bed, wondering why the mattress felt more lumpy than the one she’d got used to. She heard a faint whimper and opened her eyes. It sounded close by. Then she remembered. Lizzie. She threw back the eiderdown and sprang out of bed.
‘Lizzie?’
Lizzie was sitting on the edge of the bed struggling to put her shoes on, still with her nightdress on.
‘Are you all right?’
Lizzie nodded. Even that was a response, June thought, a flicker of optimism passing through her. Things were going to improve, she was certain. And the barrier Lizzie had built through no fault of her own would surely soon come tumbling down. Alan had said something very wise yesterday evening: that it wasn’t right for Lizzie to be separated from the other children and that she should be allowed to play and eat with the others like a normal child. If a twelve-year-old could see it, then why was it so difficult for Matron to do so?
June helped Lizzie get dressed and made a decision. She would risk Matron’s wrath and take Lizzie down with her to have breakfast. Matron liked a lie-in in the mornings and didn’t usually appear until nine o’clock. She could easily get Lizzie back to the nursery by then, and have another go with Matron. She’d have to tell her about Hilda even if it meant getting Iris into trouble. Perhaps she should speak to Iris first. She’d hate to lose Iris as a friend by saying the wrong thing.
