An Orphan in the Snow

by Molly Green

  June’s mouth fell open. ‘I can hardly believe it. Poor Mum. What happened then?’

  ‘She took the money – she had to because Stella was on the way and she didn’t have a husband. Then Billy came along and promised her the world and that he’d look after Stella as his own. Hard to imagine, but he was a handsome brute once and could charm the birds off the trees. She believed him. At first things weren’t too bad. She was relieved she had a husband and a home to bring the baby into. Stella would have been three then. It wasn’t until her fourth birthday that he started knocking my sister about. By then she knew she’d made a terrible mistake but she thought so long as he didn’t hit her child she’d put up with it. You see, she’d read in the paper that Tom had got married to a society gal. She was heartbroken.’

  All the time her aunt was talking, June’s eyes never left her face. It was impossible that she was hearing such things about her own mother and Billy and now Tom.

  ‘Do you want me to carry on?’

  June nodded. ‘Yes, please.’ Her voice was thick with tears.

  ‘By this time Billy was drinking. He was pickled more often than he was sober. Your mother and Tom began to meet. Just as friends at first. Until they both admitted they still loved one another. Tom confessed he’d made a mistake. Got married on the rebound to an empty-headed spoilt brat. It wasn’t long before your mother fell again. This time it was you. She didn’t dare tell Billy, and he didn’t find out until Clara was conceived. Then he nearly went mad as by then they hadn’t had any husband-and-wife relationship so he knew Clara couldn’t be his. I kept telling her to leave – told her to come here – but she said it wasn’t fair on me and there was only one spare single bedroom. She had no money – nowhere to go. That’s how it was.’

  ‘So that’s why he was so cruel to Clara.’ June’s voice was hardly above a whisper. ‘I couldn’t ever understand it. She was such a beautiful child with such a sunny nature.’ She dropped her head in her hands and began to sob her heart out.

  ‘Don’t cry, love. You don’t ever have to see him again if you don’t want to.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ June said, looking at her aunt through eyes wet with tears. ‘You see h-he started to say something about C-Clara. About it being an accident.’

  Aunt Ada poured her another cup of tea. ‘Come on, love. Your tea’s gone cold. Have this while it’s hot. Nothing can be that bad.’

  ‘But it is.’ June looked up at her aunt with red-rimmed eyes.

  ‘Shhhhh. Drink your tea.’

  She gulped it down but it didn’t make her feel any better. ‘I feel a bit dizzy.’

  ‘When did you last have a proper meal?’ Aunt Ada demanded.

  ‘It was … oh, I can’t remember. Hours ago. Chas and I were about to have tea and cakes at his hotel’ – she broke off and blushed furiously – ‘and then – then bombs fell on the building and we had to make a run for it.’

  ‘Oh, dear Lord …’ Her aunt paled. ‘Was that how your arm was injured?’

  ‘Yes. Something fell on it. A piece of flying timber … I’m not sure.’

  ‘Let me see it,’ her aunt said.

  June removed her jumper and blouse and Aunt Ada gently fingered it.

  ‘The bruise is already coming out. I think you might have sprained your shoulder and you should have the doctor look at it. We’ll see how you are in the morning. But at any rate you’re going to stay with me for a few days. Rest it before rushing back to Liverpool.’ She paused and looked at June, concern written all over her face. ‘You were lucky not to have been killed. Thank goodness you had a young man looking after you – Chas, did you say?’

  ‘Yes, he’s just a friend,’ June said, not able to say his name without going pink.

  Her aunt raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Instead, she jumped up from her chair saying, ‘Before you tell me Billy’s latest tomfoolery, I’m going to heat up the soup I made this morning. You need something substantial inside you, by the look of things.’ She bustled into the kitchen.

  From where she sat, June could see her putting the saucepan on top of the stove and cutting up some thick slices of bread. ‘You just stay right where you are,’ her aunt called.

  Two minutes later she reappeared.

  ‘Have this while you’re waiting.’ She put a plate in June’s lap with a hunk of bread and cheese. ‘You must be starving. No wonder you feel faint. Don’t say another word until you’ve got this down you.’

  Aunt Ada waited until June had taken a few mouthfuls.

  ‘I want to finish the story so you know everything. What a terrible person I am,’ June said.

  ‘I’m quite sure you’re not.’ Her aunt sat on an opposite chair. ‘All right, love. Tell me what happened then.’

  ‘As I was telling you,’ June took a quivering breath, ‘he said Clara’s accident was unfortunate. Unfortunate.’ She heard Billy say the word as clearly as though he were in the room. ‘I saw red and picked up a vase and threw it as hard as I could at him. It hit his head. He went white, then slumped down and I thought I’d killed him. But I found out at the hospital he’d been brought in and was all right.’

  ‘Pity you didn’t finish him off,’ her aunt said bitterly. ‘My sister was tortured by that evil monster.’

  ‘The only good thing out of this is that I don’t have one cell of his in my body, nor do my sisters.’ She squeezed her eyes shut at the memory of him, lifeless in his chair, the blood … She gave a sharp intake of breath.

  ‘What is it, love?’

  ‘I just wish Mum had told me the truth about my father. I wouldn’t have felt so bad hating him so much. I think Stella would have felt better too. And Clara …’ She broke down again and wept. ‘I wish you’d told me, Aunt.’ She raised her face to her aunt’s, tears streaming down.

  ‘I couldn’t. I swore to your mother. She said she’d tell you one day – she didn’t expect to die so young.’

  June broke into fresh sobs.

  ‘There, there. Don’t take on so. I’d have thought Billy not being your father was a good piece of news. Come on, my love. Let’s get to the table. The soup should be heated through by now.’

  Aunt Ada’s soup of potatoes and leeks was delicious. June ate two bowlfuls as well as more bread and cheese. When she’d finished she helped clear the dishes against her aunt’s protests.

  ‘Here, love. This’ll do you good.’

  Aunt Ada handed her a small glass of deep-red liquid, but June shook her head. The colour reminded her of Billy Lavender’s blood.

  ‘N-no, I couldn’t.’

  ‘You can. It’s port. The best. Just sip it and I guarantee you’ll feel better. Then it’s early to bed for you, my girl. And I’m giving you a couple of Aspros for your arm. You’ll see that after a good night’s rest things will look a lot better in the morning. And if your arm’s no better we’re getting you to the doctor’s.’

  June tossed in her aunt’s guest bed all night, visions of bombs falling on Bingham Hall, killing the children, blood and screaming and … She awoke in the morning, water trickling off her brow and down her nose, her breath coming in loud rasps, and feeling as though she’d been put through a wringer. She was thankful to hear her aunt knocking at her door and quietly opening it. She had a cup of tea in her hand and two digestive biscuits.

  ‘How are you, dear? Did you sleep?’ She set the cup and saucer on the bedside table.

  ‘Not much, even with the port and Aspros.’ June gave a rueful grin. ‘My arm was quite painful, though it does actually feel easier this morning.’ She pulled up the sleeve of her nightdress to show her aunt a black and blue patch on her upper arm.

  ‘Oh, my dear … you poor thing. But at least it’s come out. I’ll put some witch hazel on it. And you’re to rest today.’

  ‘Thanks, Aunt, but I’ll be fine after my cup of tea.’ She looked up into her aunt’s grey eyes that so reminded her of her mother. ‘What would I do without you?’

  Her aunt shook
her head in protest and smiled. ‘You’re family, love. That’s what I’m here for.’

  June picked up her cup. ‘I’ll get up right away when I’ve drunk this.’

  ‘There’s no need to rush. You went through a lot yesterday.’ She kissed June on the cheek and shut the door quietly behind her.

  If her aunt knew the full story she’d be horrified.

  June drank her tea and let the hot sweet liquid flow through her, warming and soothing her a little. Then she threw back the eiderdown and blanket and stumbled out of bed. She washed and dressed quickly and as soon as she opened her bedroom door she could smell toast and bacon cooking. Suddenly hungry, she hurried down the stairs.

  ‘You must have used up all your coupons this week to have bacon,’ she said, savouring every morsel.

  ‘I like to give myself a little treat once a month,’ said her aunt, smiling and showing her uneven teeth.

  Dear Aunt Ada. She so reminded June of her mother before the drinking started … Oh, no, don’t think of that again. She blinked back the tears. Whatever happened to her, nothing in the world would ever be as bad as losing her beloved Clara. At that moment an image of Lizzie danced in front of her eyes. She swallowed. Lizzie would be asking for her.

  ‘What will you do today, dear?’ her aunt broke into her thoughts.

  ‘Get my ticket. I want to go back to Dr Barnardo’s tomorrow. There’s nothing for me here – except you, of course.’ June attempted a smile.

  ‘And everything for you there.’ Aunt Ada collected the breakfast dishes. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said when June opened her mouth to protest. ‘I understand. You must go back. They all need you.’

  Everyone except Murray, June thought, and her face became flushed as she saw him in her mind’s eye. Now, in the gentle comfort of her aunt’s home, a solitary tear slid down her face. How could she have misread the signs? She remembered his kisses, his murmured sighs, his fingers through her hair. They were not the acts of friendship. So what had changed? Her stomach tightened.

  ‘You have to put this all behind you.’ Her aunt’s voice broke into her memories. ‘It’s a shock about your mother but she definitely had cause, the way he treated her.’

  June tried to bring herself back into the present.

  ‘It’s good, really. I’ve spent my whole life, always on the lookout for any of his traits that I might have inherited.’ She gave a feeble laugh. ‘Now I don’t have to worry any more, though it would be nice to know about my real father. And if I’m anything like him.’

  ‘You’ll be a mixture of him and your mother.’ Aunt Ada began to brush the crumbs off the tablecloth into a small clean pan kept especially for the purpose. ‘Like we all are.’

  ‘There’s something I’d very much like to know,’ June said almost to herself as she leaned her head back on her aunt’s hard upright chair. ‘I wonder if my real father knew I existed. I would so love to have met him.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Did you ever meet him, Aunt?’

  ‘Several times.’ A glow came over her aunt’s face as she stopped brushing the table and looked at June. ‘Your mother must have been about six months gone with you at the time when I first saw them together.’

  ‘What was he like?’ June turned eagerly to her aunt.

  ‘He was a lovely man. A wonderful man. They were perfect together. It was the saddest thing how their lives turned out. And if I hadn’t known how much your mother adored him, I’d have gone for him myself!’ She gave a girlish giggle. ‘No wonder it took her so long to introduce me to him.’

  A sudden thought came to June, so strong it almost knocked her sideways. Her aunt had called her father ‘Tom’. And in that instant she had an image of a tall, fair-haired man smelling of lemons, with a wide smile and strong loving arms, who swept her up and kissed her. He’d taken her to the zoo. To the circus. To her first ballet. He’d never forgotten her birthday or Christmas. Uncle Thomas. Was he her father?

  ‘Are you all right, dear?’

  June realised her eyes were closed. She opened them and smiled at her aunt through tear-filled eyes.

  ‘Tom was my lovely Uncle Thomas, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes.’ Aunt Ada paused, her loving eyes searching June’s.

  Of course he was. She had known him, but as an uncle. Slowly June’s smile turned to a beam of sunlight. She didn’t have to ask questions any more. She had known her father, even though she must have only been six when she’d last seen him. She remembered his last visit; he’d come to look at the new baby. She supposed Billy had been at work and her mother must have sent for him. She could see his smile now, as he looked down on the cot at her new baby sister, Clara. She remembered asking her mother when was Uncle Thomas going to come and see them again, and how upset her mother became. She said he’d gone away and might not be back for a long time.

  ‘I wondered if it would occur to you. What did Billy say about him?’ her aunt asked.

  ‘That he’d died.’

  ‘Unfortunately, this is one of the only times he’s told the truth. Tom jumped into the river after a young lad who’d fallen in, and ended up …’ She blinked several times. ‘Well, the boy was saved but Tom didn’t survive. Your mother never got over it. And then Clara …’ She looked at June. ‘But we mustn’t be sad. Your father died a hero. He’d have been so proud of you, looking after those children at Dr Barnardo’s. And he’d want you to live your life to the very best. It’s all in front of you, my love. And rest assured, your dad knew and loved all three of you. His daughters were his pride and joy.’

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘What’s wrong, Junie?’ Iris said, appearing at the library door one evening three days after June had returned from London.

  June glanced up and tried to smile. ‘Nothing. I just needed some time on my own, that’s all.’

  Iris came into the library and stood over June. She put her hand gently under June’s chin and tilted it up. ‘You’ve not been your usual self,’ she said. ‘Your face is pale and your eyes are dull. You’re not sickening for anything, are you?’

  ‘No, Nurse Iris,’ she attempted a wan smile. ‘I’m all right – honestly.’

  ‘Sorry, Junie, I’m not swallowing that.’ Iris took the old leather armchair opposite. ‘You’ve been very quiet ever since you came back from London. I know it must have been pretty awful what happened with your father, who isn’t your father, thank God, but as far as I can see, he deserved every bit of it. So there’s no need to feel a shred of guilt over him. And you said you’d bumped into Chas after you thought you’d committed murder’ – Iris broke into a grin – ‘and he’d been marvellous, and also when the bombs dropped on the hotel. Sounds like you might not have even been alive if it hadn’t been for him.’

  June swallowed hard but the lump in her throat wouldn’t dislodge.

  ‘He was marvellous.’ She chewed her lip.

  ‘Well, then.’

  June unconsciously rubbed her shoulder.

  ‘Is that still painful?’

  ‘A bit,’ June admitted, ‘but nowhere near like it was.’

  ‘Let me have a look.’ Iris quickly examined her arm and shoulder. ‘It’s already much better. Are you still putting the cold compresses on like I showed you?’

  ‘Yes, regularly.’ June was thankful Iris had changed the subject, but she hadn’t bargained on Iris’s tenacity.

  ‘So what is it? I’m not going to be fobbed off.’ Iris looked at her sternly. ‘We’re friends, aren’t we? You can tell me anything and it won’t go any further.’

  ‘You’re the dearest friend,’ June said, her eyes swimming with tears. ‘I just didn’t want to say anything. I’m so ashamed.’

  ‘You – ashamed?’

  ‘I didn’t tell you the whole story,’ June said in a low voice. ‘What happened before the hotel was hit. After we’d had our tea.’

  ‘Oh, don’t tell me – I can guess.’ Iris leaned forward and gave June an admiring grin. ‘He had his wicked way with you. He w
as a good lover and you enjoyed it. And now you feel guilty because of Murray. You’re worried if Murray should ever find out.’

  June gave a humourless smile. ‘Not quite, Iris, but close.’

  ‘Go on.’

  June told Iris in a rush.

  ‘What a cad,’ Iris said, when June had finished.

  ‘So now you know the whole story, and why I’ve been so quiet,’ June said.

  ‘All I can say is, forget about Chas. He was behaving like a typical male when the opportunity presented itself to him. I know full well it’s Murray you’re madly in love with.’ She caught June’s eye. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’

  June bit her lip as hard as she could bear, to stop herself breaking into sobs, and nodded. The next moment she felt Iris’s arms wrap around her.

  ‘Come on, Junie, it’ll all turn out okay. I promise. But you need your food and rest or you’ll get ill. And then I’ll have to look after you in the sick bay. And you won’t want that. I’m very strict, you know. Ask any of the kids who’ve been under my care.’

  June smiled.

  ‘That’s more like it,’ Iris said. ‘Now come on to the common room and I’ll make us a hot cocoa for a special treat!’

  Murray hadn’t been that taken with Chas from the first time he’d set eyes on him, even though Chas had volunteered to come to England several weeks before his fellow Americans. He had to admit that the Yank had a cheerful personality, was always polite and turned his hand to anything. And he seemed fearless every time he took his plane up. Murray shook his head. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but he distrusted him. Maybe Chas was a little bit too nice … too smiley … too eager to be popular. Or was Murray simply envious of the other pilot’s easy charm?