Nancy began to worry and hurriedly put the iron and ironing board away before hurrying down the stairs that led to the garden. The children saw her as soon as she entered the garden and came running over, asking her to play with them.
‘Where’s Josephine?’ Nancy asked them. When they looked puzzled, she asked again. ‘Children, where is Josephine?’
‘She’s playing over there,’ Martha said.
Nancy turned to where they were pointing. ‘I can’t see her, children. I can’t see Josephine.’
‘She’s playing mummies and daddies and she’s the baby,’ they told her before running off to play.
Suddenly light dawned. Babies! Nancy burst out laughing, then ran over to the children pushing the pram and there was Josephine bundled up inside, thoroughly enjoying being pushed around. ‘Hello, Aunty Nancy! Do you want to play with us?’
‘How in God’s creation did you get in there, Josephine?’ she asked.
The children smiled. ‘We all helped, didn’t we?’
Josephine nodded with a grin.
‘You’ll have trouble with your back as well as your legs if you stay squashed in that,’ Nancy said, lifting her out.
There were disappointed cries until suddenly there was the sound of barking and Mr Bell arrived in the garden with Oliver. The children all ran to them. ‘Hello, Oliver!’ they shouted.
Josephine was sitting on the grass, watching.
‘What’s that you’ve got, Mr Bell?’ Norman wanted to know.
The children gathered around him, oohing and aahing and saying, ‘What is it?’ and ‘Can I have a try?’
‘Mr Bell, what’s it called?’ shouted Martha again.
He scratched his head. ‘Don’t actually know,’ he replied.
‘Oh well, in that case it’s a thingy then,’ said Martha.
‘A thingy?’ the children queried.
‘Yes, it’s what you call things with no name,’ Martha told them.
Nancy hurried over to see what all the fuss was about. ‘Let me through, children,’ she said. ‘Come along now.’
They all stood to one side and Nancy gasped. ‘Is this what I think it is?’ she said, although nobody had ever seen such a thing before. In fact, nothing of its type had ever existed until now. The children fell silent as they all stood round it.
‘Aunty Nancy, it’s a thingy,’ they told her, giggling.
‘Really, children? And what does the thingy do?’ she asked them. They all looked at each other but nobody knew what it did, so they all continued to stare at it.
The thingy stood there in all its glory, waiting. There was a big piece of board with wheels attached at each corner, then what looked like an old piece of piping bent into an ‘n’ shape like a handle. To the front of the thingy was a harness. Nancy slowly began to realise what it was – a walking frame. Mr Bell picked the thingy up as though it was as light as a feather, yet it looked extremely sturdy. He made his way over to Josephine and the children all followed, huddled around him with Oliver at their heels. He placed it in front of Josephine.
Everyone stood quietly and watched. Something very special was about to take place. Oliver went to stand beside Josephine and licked her hand. He ran to the thingy, then back to Josephine, then back once more to the thingy, wagging his tail furiously. ‘He wants you to follow him, Josephine,’ Billy told her.
Now the children were shouting, ‘Come on, Josephine, do it! Please stand up and have a go. It’s for you, your very own special thingy. You have to try it!’ Josephine grinned and all the children helped her to stand up.
Nancy couldn’t have spoken or moved even if she tried. This moment was going to be one of those incredibly precious moments that you want to remember and relive over and over and over again for the rest of your life. She watched silently, almost holding her breath, although her arms were ready to catch the child if she fell. Josephine was holding on to the side of her chair. She let go with her left hand. Oliver wagged his tail. Josephine let go with her right hand and stood unaided. Oliver barked. She put her hands onto the handle of the thingy. At a word from Mr Bell, Oliver knew exactly what to do – Mr Bell had been training him. Oliver knew not to jump up at people any more, he sat down when told to do so, and he had practised pulling this thing for days. He ran to the front where he was placed in the harness.
‘Won’t hurt him. It’s well balanced,’ Mr Bell told them all. Oliver was standing still, waiting for orders. ‘Ready now,’ said Mr Bell.
Everyone waited. Even the breeze dropped. The mighty oak held its branches still and every single person in the garden stood silently. It could quite easily have looked just like a picture postcard. ‘Slowly now, Oliver, good boy,’ encouraged Mr Bell.
Ever so slowly, Oliver moved forward and Josephine took a step, holding on tightly to the thingy.
‘Well done, Josephine!’ the children were shouting. ‘Go on, do it again.’
Oliver moved again and Josephine took a few more steps, then a few more, as the children encouraged her, shouting her name and clapping.
That day, Josephine learned to walk again in the gardens of Nazareth House, with the help of Oliver and the thingy. Never had Nancy seen a bigger smile on a child’s face. When she was finally eased back into her wheelchair, Nancy was watching her and the strangest thing happened. Josephine Jones was sitting perfectly still yet somehow her plaits seemed to be quivering all on their own.
‘Ah, that’s better,’ said Nancy. ‘A happy child. Heaven, I am afraid, will have to wait.’
Smart Shoes and Swinging Handbags
Jennifer had been told she could return to her old job after Easter and was very excited indeed. For days before she was due to start she had been cleaning and tidying, washing and ironing. She had bought extra work clothes to ensure Michael had a clean set each day. She had spent hours going through his shift patterns and working out what meals would be best so that there was always something for him to come home to. Just as she had expected, people had tutted and said nasty things, like, ‘Fancy your man having to come home to an empty house with no hot meal on the table!’ and ‘A disgrace, that’s what it is’. Michael just laughed and told her to ignore them all. He had already warned his parents not to say anything, and when his mother had offered to come over with hot food on those mornings he came home after a night shift, he had put his foot down.
Jennifer had worried for days about what to wear for work and had eventually settled on a pale blue skirt and cardigan with smart black shoes. She was to take her place in the typing pool but would also have extra duties, helping her friend Julia as needed. ‘Stop worrying so much,’ Julia had said. ‘You’ve done the job before and you can do it again. There’ve been a few changes but nothing major. I’ll be away on holiday for your first week so just one thing. The girl you’re replacing is leaving this week and she’s pregnant. I want you in a week early so she can go through with you where she’s leaving off. Can you handle that?’
‘Of course,’ Jennifer had said, with a bravado she did not feel.
That morning, Michael had left for work at six and, although she wasn’t due to start until nine, Jennifer was up at five, with breakfast ready and sandwiches for his lunch, and tonight she would be home before him so would have dinner on the table by six. Michael kissed her, wished her luck and left.
Jennifer sat alone at the table, her heart pounding. Surely this was the worst idea ever. What if the girls didn’t like her, or she didn’t fit in? What if she’d forgotten how to type? Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself. By the end of the week she would be settled into a routine that would suit her and Michael. She would make this work.
Here we go, then, she said to herself, as she closed the front door and set off along Sandyford Road. It was only two bus stops or a twenty-minute walk so she decided to walk. It was such a lovely morning, and for the first time in ages she felt truly alive. Excitement bubbled inside her and she swung her handbag as she walked along.
A youn
g girl walking in the opposite direction stopped just as she reached the gates of Nazareth House and leaned forward to soothe the toddler in the pram she was pushing.
Jennifer’s heart skipped a beat. What a perfect picture. How lucky that girl is, she thought, and tears stung her eyes. Why didn’t I take the bus? Yet all around her everywhere there were going to be mothers walking their children in prams. It simply wasn’t fair.
I wish I was her, she thought.
Gertie had noticed the girl with the swinging handbag and had had to lean forward into the pram to hide her tears. She had refused point-blank to let anyone come with her today. She had infuriated the family and the children’s officer by insisting she, the child’s mother, would be the last person to hold the little one before she handed her over. ‘It’s for the best,’ her mother had said. Gertie had brought disgrace to their door and shame on the whole family. It could have been avoided if she had given the baby up for adoption immediately instead of continuing to believe Jack would come back and marry her. Hard, cruel words.
Gertie had never stopped hoping that Jack would marry her, so she had been sent to live with an aunt in Castle Eden, a small village in Durham. It was only twenty-four miles away but nobody knew them there. ‘Let’s see how serious he is,’ her mother had told her, before sending Gertie on her way. ‘If he turns up with a ring, let me know.’
Aunt Edie lived in a small farmhouse with Uncle Robert. They would try to talk some sense into her and arrange to have the child adopted, they promised. Gertie would see sense, surely. Conversations went on around her while everyone decided they knew what was best. All Gertie had to do was come to her senses and see they were right.
Gertie had been too angry to cry, and when she arrived at the farmhouse she was shown to the bedroom that was to be hers until the baby was born. There was no need for anyone to know she was there, and Aunt Edie would ensure she had everything she needed. She had no need to leave the house, Gertie was told. She had looked out of the window and seen the fields for miles around, feeling like a prisoner. Jack would come to get her. These small-minded people would have to back down when she had a ring on her finger.
Jack had promised to tell his parents about the baby and assured Gertie that then they would get married. He had kept his promise, but the next day he was sent to Scotland, where his family had said there were lots of jobs going. They didn’t want their boy tied down to a girl of that sort. Jack wasn’t strong enough to fight back and did as he was told. Sitting on the train, he had felt guilty, yet not guilty enough to stay and defy his family. ‘Sorry, Gertie,’ he whispered.
Gertie prayed for Jack to find her until the day her daughter was born. Then she knew he wasn’t going to come for her and finally she lost hope and cried as her heart broke. It hadn’t been all bad. She had become very close to her aunt and uncle, who had never had children of their own, and she hadn’t missed the tears in her aunt’s eyes when she held the baby in her arms. Against the wishes of the family, Aunt Edie had told her she could stay for a while longer. Gertie’s family were furious and stopped speaking to them all. Gertie prayed it would stay that way and she would be allowed to remain there and bring up little Alison. It had been a hard two years because there always seemed to be so much to do. To pay for her keep she cooked, cleaned and helped on the small farm as well as looking after the baby. It was hard work and Gertie loved every single moment of it.
Two days before Alison’s second birthday, Aunt Edie had had a stroke and suddenly it was all over. She wasn’t expected to recover, and if she did, she would need full-time nursing care. The farmhouse would have to be sold and her uncle was moving in with family until something could be sorted out. Gertie was not welcome.
There was nowhere to go except home. All the way back a million thoughts had run around in her head. Surely they wouldn’t dream of separating her from Alison now? It would be too cruel. They would fall in love with Alison the moment they saw her. The thought of losing her child was beyond terrifying. Gertie’s legs were shaking when she knocked on the door of the home she hadn’t seen for over two years. She held on tightly to Alison, who was chattering non-stop.
When the door opened, Gertie said, ‘Hello, Mum,’ in a shaky voice, then realised this was not her mother or any of her family.
‘Do come in,’ the ladies said.
Where was her mother? Where were the rest of the family? She was told to stop asking questions and sit down. Gertie knew instinctively who these people were. They were children’s officers. Nobody would ever get to know Alison.
It was explained that the child was to be taken to Nazareth House in Jesmond to be put up for adoption. Alison would be placed in the nursery department until suitable parents were found. If Gertie did not agree to this, she was to leave with the child and not come back. That, naturally, would be a selfish act on her part when there were good people waiting to give the child a proper home. Something Gertie could not do. Alison was asleep in Gertie’s arms and she held her close as her tears dropped onto the little cheeks. If it was to be, she would do it herself, she told them angrily.
There was a pram in the corner of the room that belonged to her sister’s child. Obviously they were all somewhere close by, waiting for the children’s officer to leave with Alison. Somewhere out there behind net curtains, Gertie knew they were watching and she felt angrier than she had ever felt before. She stood up, walked across the room and placed Alison in the pram. The officers made to move towards her but backed away immediately when Gertie screamed at them not to take another step towards her. She was shaking from head to foot but managed to push the pram out of the door and run down the street. More than one set of net curtains twitched as people tutted and gossiped.
Gertie reached the gates of Nazareth House and wondered if she could do this. Alison began to cry; she was hungry, and Gertie had no money to feed her. There was absolutely no other option. Somehow Gertie had to make one foot move in front of the other and step onto the driveway that led to Nazareth House Orphanage, where Alison would become somebody else’s daughter. ‘No, no, no,’ cried Gertie, as she walked down the driveway. ‘She will still be my daughter and I will always be a mother. Always.’ She thought about the girl with the smart shoes and the swinging handbag.
‘I wish I was her,’ she said.
Gertie was right. She would always be a mother, even though her child would be brought up by others. Like many others at that time, she was surrounded by injustice and prejudice.
The hearts of a childless couple would be filled with joy, thanks to Gertie, who would spend the rest of her life suffering grief so raw it would never quite leave her.
Mr Bell’s Day Out
A trip to the seaside was always looked forward to with great excitement, which was why Nancy tried to keep it from the children for as long as she could before telling them. Dolly, though, was almost as much of a child as they were and kept hinting about the treat so the children guessed. ‘I give up, Dolly Marshall,’ Nancy said. ‘You are utterly hopeless at keeping secrets.’
She had to smile when Dolly said, ‘I can’t believe we’re all going together on a train just for us. Ooh, it’s like being royalty, isn’t it, Sister Mary Joseph?’
‘It is indeed.’
‘Oh, don’t you start,’ Nancy said, but with a smile. ‘Make yourselves useful, if at all possible, and go and find the box with all the buckets and spades in it.’
‘Will they need washing, Nancy?’ Dolly asked.
Nancy put her hands on her hips, raised an eyebrow and looked questioningly at them both.
‘Washed before they were put away, weren’t they?’ Dolly said, laughing.
‘Naturally,’ Nancy replied. ‘Now go away while I sort out everything that needs to be done or it’ll be autumn before we leave.’
Once again the people in the north-east had shown their generosity and the local railway company was putting on a train from the local station in Heaton to take the children to Tynemouth
beach. A whole carriage to themselves and helpers on board if needed.
Nancy had suffered many trips to the beach, trying to manage twenty or more children on and off a packed train, all with buckets and spades, carrying a mountain of sandwiches and at least two flasks of hot water to make tea when they got there. She had been saving to make sure Dolly, Sister Mary Joseph and herself had a deckchair each. It would be a lovely treat for them. There were no worries about the weather: it had been a glorious July so far and the sun was set to shine. Everything was perfect in every way except one: Oliver was not allowed to come along. No matter how much the children pleaded he was absolutely categorically not allowed to come. Nancy had twenty children to cope with and enough bags of sandwiches to feed the whole of Tynemouth to carry, not to mention flasks, tins of cake, towels and Heaven knows what else. Nancy liked to be prepared.
It would have been so much more fun, thought Billy, if Oliver was with them, but Aunty Nancy was having none of it.
Josephine was doing well, thanks to Oliver, who always walked beside her when she wasn’t using the thingy. Nancy knew she felt safe when he was there. The dog was around nine months old, they thought, and deserved a day at the beach just as much as the children but it was hard enough trying to keep an eye on all the little ones without looking after a boisterous Oliver as well. No, it simply couldn’t be done. The youngest children were staying behind, and today Nancy was taking the over-threes.
The Puppy and the Orphan Page 15
