by Molly Green
June could have wept with joy. Lizzie had said a whole sentence with no hesitation between the words. Maybe Lizzie would carry on talking naturally this time. She smiled at the little girl who was waiting for her answer.
‘Yes, of course you can, darling. But we must leave him now or else everyone will wonder where we are.’ June bent down and put her arms underneath Lizzie’s and picked her up. Lizzie nuzzled in the crook of her shoulder and June sat on the bed with her.
‘Want my mummy.’
June blinked back the tears. ‘Mummy’s gone to heaven with Daddy and your brother.’ She’d forgotten his name and hoped Lizzie wouldn’t realise. ‘They want you to stay here with us and all the other children. Do you think you can do that?’
Lizzie nodded very slowly, her bottom lip trembling.
‘And now you have seeing Freddie to look forward to. He’ll be really pleased to see you too. We’ll have to think of some games.’
Lizzie struggled to get down. Immediately Freddie snuffled into her arms.
‘Be a good doggie,’ she whispered in the little animal’s pointed ear. ‘Lizzie come back tomorrow.’
Chapter Fifteen
There was great excitement at Bingham Hall doing the last-minute Christmas preparations. Bertie had got extra help from two girls from the village and had made a special supper that evening. Joachim was very quiet after his outburst about how to pronounce his name. He watched everyone with a slight curl to his lip, although he followed June wherever she went. She felt desperately sorry for him. In the library she’d picked up a book about how people in other countries celebrated Christmas and found that in Germany Christmas Eve was more important than Christmas Day itself.
Poor little chap, she thought, wondering how he came to be at the home. Matron obviously hadn’t wanted to go into too much detail in front of the other children, who regarded any Germans as the enemy. Even the older children couldn’t be expected to understand that German Jews were plainly victims of Hitler’s terrifying regime. June dreaded to think what had happened to his parents. He was going to feel terribly alone and different. Really it was more than any child should have to bear.
That evening in the library, which was decorated with the paper chains the children had made, she sat Joachim near her and Lizzie while everyone sang carols around the giant Christmas tree, lit with candles and coloured balls, with the Star of Bethlehem at the top. When they ended with ‘Silent Night’ June gave Joachim a sidelong glance. She could tell by the way he’d closed his eyes and was very gently swaying the top part of his body that he was engrossed. Then to her amazement she heard him hum the tune. She hardly dared breathe in case she disturbed him but he went right through the next verse, quietly humming. She suddenly remembered how both the British and the German soldiers sang carols from the trenches on Christmas Eve in the last world war. Maybe ‘Silent Night’ was one of them. She wanted to give Joachim’s hand a squeeze but didn’t dare spoil the moment. The children finished the carol but to her astonishment Joachim began to sing, quietly at first in German, and then with more confidence. His voice was as pure as any choirboy’s. It was the first time June had ever heard the language and to her surprise she found it quite beautiful.
‘Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht …’
And when Joachim’s angelic voice rose on the last notes a shiver traced along her spine.
There was a deathly hush. All the children’s heads were turned towards him, awestruck, but his eyes were still half closed when he’d finished.
June began to clap and some of the children joined in, and then the staff. All except Matron, who was watching him with a curious expression, as though she was astonished this foreign boy could make such a beautiful sound. Joachim opened his eyes and looked around as though he wasn’t aware the clapping was for him.
‘You sounded just like a choirboy,’ June told him, but he only stared at her. ‘It was wonderful,’ she tried again, smiling encouragingly, but it made no difference except that he merely shrugged and his face closed up again.
‘Come on, it’s time for you younger ones to go to bed,’ Kathleen broke in, ‘so you’re asleep when Father Christmas comes. Come on, children. I’ll help you get ready.’
There were a few weak protests but June could tell by the way they were yawning that they were tired out. Even the older children began to half close their eyes, so it was only twenty minutes later that Iris rounded up all of them. June gave Joachim a gentle push.
‘Iris will give you a stocking ready for Father Christmas,’ she told him with a smile.
‘We do not celebrate Christmas.’
She took a step back at the contempt in Joachim’s tone.
‘Oh.’ Now was not the time to find out what his people celebrated instead, but she would ask him when the time was right. ‘Why don’t you think of it as a holiday and join in?’
He nodded. That was good enough, June thought tiredly.
After the children had made sure their stockings were easily spotted at the end of their beds ready for Father Christmas to find them, and had settled down for the night, Iris, Kathleen and June tiptoed through the rooms filling each of them with an orange, an apple, a little bag of nuts, and some crayons or other small gift. They placed a toy, which had been donated by the kind villagers, at the foot of each bed.
‘Ouch!’ Kathleen banged her shin on one of the iron bed railings in the girls’ dormitory.
‘Shhhh!’ Iris pressed her finger to her lips. ‘Don’t wake them,’ she whispered. ‘We mustn’t let anyone see what we’re doing. Look at Lizzie with her thumb in her mouth – sound asleep. They’re so excited about Father Christmas coming down the chimney.’
‘Bertie’s left mince pies and a cup of cocoa for him,’ June whispered back.
‘Bet Harold would rather have a beer,’ said Iris, chuckling softly.
‘Why, is he going to be Father Christmas?’ June asked, smiling at the image.
‘Ooh, I couldn’t possibly say.’ Iris sent her a wicked grin.
They put their hands to their mouths to supress their giggles. Pamela stirred and turned over. They waited until she began to breathe rhythmically again, and then they swiftly filled the last of the stockings and left the room, closing the door quietly behind them, ready to go on to the boys’ dormitory.
It was hard to contain the children in the morning. A few of them had woken up as early as five o’clock and were tearing open their stockings and presents, mostly calling out with delight, though there were some moans of disappointment.
‘I wanted a dolly,’ Betsy grizzled. ‘I haven’t got a dolly and I asked Father Christmas to bring me one.’ She thrust out a rag clown to June and burst into tears.
‘Let’s see if we can swap him with one of the other presents,’ June said, as she helped her get dressed.
‘I don’t like the clown,’ Betsy sobbed. ‘He’s got a horrid mouth. I hate him.’
‘We’ll get him changed after breakfast,’ June soothed, running her fingers through the child’s black curls.
The maids had decorated the breakfast table with coloured streamers and paper bells, and there was a balloon by the side of each child’s plate.
‘Not to be blown up at the table,’ Matron said firmly. ‘There are no classes today so you can play with them in the playroom. Anyone who wants to paint pictures can go to the art classroom and Miss Steen will be there to help you.’ She swivelled her head around all the tables with her usual fierce expression.
She can’t even smile at the children on Christmas Day, June thought sadly.
‘Off you go then!’ Matron waved her arm towards the door. ‘And make sure you make your beds and tidy round your space first before any games.’
The children didn’t need to be told twice. With a cacophony of scraping chairs and scuffles they raced out of the dining room and took the stairs two at a time.
June did her best to make it a happy day for the children. Harold looked the part in his Father Chris
tmas suit and outstanding curly white beard, although Lizzie kept clear of him and spent most of the day curled in her corner of the kitchen with Bertie. June gave Joachim more attention than the others, trying hard to get him to join in the games. She saw Matron frown in her direction several times but took no notice. Thomas muttered loudly enough for Joachim to hear that German was a stupid language, and received a severe telling-off from Alan to stop being so nasty, but other than that, the children ran off to play and left Joachim to fend for himself.
June took him to the art classroom. It seemed the safest place and she thought he might enjoy doing some painting. She noticed his face brighten at seeing the pictures the children had recently painted stuck on the walls with drawing pins. The twins came in with Lizzie trailing behind, followed by Barbara.
‘You can leave me with them, June,’ she said, smiling at the children. ‘I’ll set them some work and you can come back later and see how they’re getting on. I know you worry about certain ones,’ she added in a low tone.
June smiled back with relief. She wanted to have a quiet few minutes in her room after supper, just to gather her thoughts. Think about Clara. Open the card and present she’d had from Stella, and her cards from Iris and Kathleen and Athena. She wondered how Murray was spending Christmas and hoped they’d been given the day to rest.
As she got to her bedroom door she saw an envelope sticking out at the bottom. Someone had pushed it in while she’d been at supper. Another Christmas card, she suspected, from one of the staff. She felt a little guilty. She’d only bought cards for Iris and Kathleen, and signed a card to Matron from everyone. She’d have liked to have bought one for Murray but hadn’t known exactly where to send it, and anyway he’d probably think her forward. He hadn’t sent her one, after all.
June opened her door and picked up the envelope. Freddie rushed to her, wagging his tail and giving little barks of delight.
‘Shhhh, Freddie. Someone will hear you.’ She sat on the chair and Freddie jumped on to her lap, trembling with joy that she was here. She noticed he’d chewed the corner of the envelope but had obviously given up. He licked her all over her face and whined. She’d have to feed him or she’d never be able to read her letter in peace. She nipped down to the kitchen and once Freddie was wolfing down his evening meal she opened the envelope.
The writing was unfamiliar. Inside the envelope was one sheet of notepaper. Her heart leaped as she read the name ‘Junie’.
Dear Junie,
I’m sorry I’ve not been out to buy you a Christmas card so I’m afraid this note will have to be in place of one. One of the chaps offered to bring it over as I can’t get away, and I’ve entrusted him to give it to you or one of the staff but NOT Matron, so I hope you receive it.
It doesn’t feel like Christmas to me but we’re all keeping cheerful. At least we’re not going skywards today or tomorrow.
How is Freddie getting along? Has Matron discovered him yet?
I hope it’s not long before I see you again.
Yours,
Murray
PS I hope you liked the little gift.
With a start she realised she’d forgotten all about it. What with attending to Joachim and Freddie and then hearing the shouts and screams from the children extra early this morning, it had gone right out of her mind. She patted her overall pocket, relieved the little packet was still there, pulled it out and unfolded the holly-printed paper. Something small and lumpy, wrapped in cotton wool. Carefully she lifted the top layer and gave a gasp of delight. It was a silver brooch, a miniature copy of an RAF pilot’s wings.
She picked it up and laid it in the palm of her hand. It took on the warmth of her skin and winked up at her. It was beautiful and instantly it became precious in her eyes. He must like her a lot to give her something so lovely, so … well, special, knowing how much flying meant to him. The brooch and the sentiment behind it struck her as somehow intimate. She flushed at the word, remembering the feel of his lips touching hers, so briefly yet so unforgettably. If only he could have been here when she opened it. Maybe he would have told her what it meant for him to give her such a gift. And she could have told him what it meant to receive it.
She bent her head and gave the brooch a kiss before she wrapped it back in its cotton wool and holly paper and tucked it into her drawer. It would never do to wear it in the home. Matron made a point of no jewellery, but she would pin it on her jacket the very next time she saw Murray. She only hoped she wouldn’t have too long to wait.
Until then she wouldn’t tell anyone – not even Iris.
Chapter Sixteen
Joachim’s angelic rendering of ‘Silent Night’ was deceptive. After only a few days he quickly became one of the ringleaders in drawing the other children into mischief. He didn’t need to speak much English. He just did exactly what he wanted and the others followed. It took all June’s patience to deal with him. At first she tried reasoning but he fought back. She knew this was partly bravado but she had to take action. He was disruptive at mealtimes, refusing to eat the food put in front of him, once actually spitting it back onto the tin plate, to the other children’s delight. They copied him and it was lucky that Matron wasn’t there on that occasion as June could see him being punished.
This suppertime he seemed more difficult than ever.
‘I don’t like it,’ he said.
‘It’s lovely. Don’t you have it in Germany?’
Joachim just stared at her under long dark lashes.
‘Bring your plate and come and sit by me,’ June said, but he didn’t budge.
‘What’s the trouble?’ came a strident cold voice.
June’s stomach sank. Matron. Normally she ate at a separate table, occasionally with Miss Ayles, whom she considered intelligent enough to confer with, but here she was, standing over June’s shoulder.
June looked up into the glare of Matron’s cool grey eyes.
‘It’s all right, Matron – just that Joachim has never had junket. I was just explaining what it was.’
‘Hmm.’ Matron pressed her lips together. ‘Woolfes is a bad influence.’ She didn’t say it quietly, and the children nearest to June who were old enough to understand began to snigger.
June shook her head at them and put her finger to her lips. She waited for Matron’s next move, praying that Joachim would start eating the junket, but when she glanced over she noticed he’d put his spoon down and was looking at the white pudding in disgust. She couldn’t help feeling sympathetic towards him. She didn’t like it much herself, and she remembered when Clara had refused to eat it. Her mother had told her it was good for her and she would have to stay there until she ate it.
‘I’ll be sick if I eat it,’ Clara had said, tears welling in her eyes.
‘Well, you’ll have to be sick, but first you are going to eat it.’ Her mother placed the spoon in Clara’s hand again.
Clara had sat for an hour without touching it, but when she saw her mother meant business she ate the junket in rapid swallows. A minute later it had all come up again, all over the tablecloth. Wordlessly her mother gathered the material and put it in the scullery to deal with later. She never again forced any of her children to eat something they plainly didn’t like.
June squeezed her eyes tight at the memory, not just of the junket episode, but of when they were a complete family – without Dad, of course. He’d spend most of his spare time in the pub or at the greyhound stadium after he’d finished his milk round.
When June opened her eyes Matron was bending over Joachim’s shoulders.
‘Come on, boy, eat up. You’re keeping everyone waiting.’
All eyes had turned to Matron. Joachim didn’t bother to acknowledge her, and a stubborn expression crept over his dark features. Matron apparently decided to take matters into her own hands and grabbed his spoon, plunged it into the white pudding and attempted to push the heaped spoon into Joachim’s mouth. He gave a shout and knocked the spoon out of Matron’s hand,
whereupon she clipped him over the ear. Howling in protest, Joachim shot to his feet and said something to her in German before he rushed out of the room.
After supper, and still upset with Matron and even more with herself for not dealing with the situation quickly enough, June felt at her wits’ end. Iris was too busy to talk to her as she and Kathleen were working solidly in the sick bay because of an outbreak of mumps, brought in by one of the village girls who occasionally helped out. Five children were already down with it and they’d had to call for the doctor before it became an epidemic.
June resolved to find out more about Joachim’s background – and why it had been decided that he should be sent to Dr Barnardo’s in Liverpool in the first place when it was likely he had family in Germany.
She thought she would see if Bertie could add anything about Joachim’s past. She often knew snippets the others didn’t. But Bertie shook her head.
‘I did enquire but Matron changed the subject. I don’t think she’s too keen on having a German boy – Jewish or not.’
‘So what do you think I should do, Bertie?’
Bertie put down her teacloth and thought for a few moments.
‘I reckon you have to speak to the other children. Explain to the older children how it’s our responsibility to look after him. Keep him busy. And have Athena give him extra English lessons so he catches up with the others.’
June followed Bertie’s advice, but it didn’t make much difference. The more she tried to help Joachim, the more he played up, and sometimes her patience would wear thin. Every morning she would catch him looking out for the postman, but there was never a letter for him. He would walk away, his neck thrust forward, his shoulders slumped, and her heart would go out to him. She wondered again what had happened to his parents, and imagined they’d sent Joachim to England for safety – but had they escaped themselves?
It was New Year’s Eve and not one of the staff stayed up to celebrate. Iris was all for it, but in the end even she was tired out.
