The Puppy and the Orphan

by Suzanne Lambert

  They all sat in front of the roaring fire in silence until suddenly Mr Bell coughed. The children jumped up and tucked the blanket around his knees. ‘There you are,’ they said, fussing about, making sure he was comfortable. Josephine knelt beside him and he leaned forward and put his hand gently on her shoulder and nodded. ‘Very well, young lady, if you insist.’

  ‘You’ll come to our birthday party?’ Josephine was brightening.

  Mr Bell nodded, then leaned back and closed his eyes. Oliver was asleep, snoring loudly, and the children crept out closing the door behind them.

  They ran over to Aunty Nancy. ‘I’ve told him all about the birthday party.’ Josephine was smiling.

  ‘Oh,’ Nancy said. ‘You weren’t supposed to do that. He doesn’t like coming into the big house, he never has, except to mend things. I was trying to think of ways to get him to come.’

  ‘But he is coming!’ Josephine squeaked, excited. ‘I told him it was my birthday too and he had to come and he said yes.’

  ‘Well I never!’ said Nancy. ‘Well done, Josephine.’

  It had been a good day, Nancy thought, as she was settling the children for the night. They had all had lots of fresh air and some of the younger ones were asleep before she had undressed them. Josephine, of course, insisted she was a big girl and didn’t need any help. When all the children were lying down to sleep Nancy noticed that Josephine was still sitting up in bed and went over to sit beside her. ‘What is it, darling?’

  Josephine was staring out of the window. ‘Do you think Mummy and Daddy have forgotten me, Aunty Nancy?’ she said.

  ‘Oh, Heavens above, no, Josephine,’ she replied, sweeping the little girl out of bed and onto her knee. ‘Mummies and daddies never forget us, not for one single moment.’

  ‘Why did God not take me with them?’

  Nancy thought for a moment, then carried Josephine over to the window. ‘As long as we hold them in our hearts, darling, nobody can ever take them away, and as long as you can see the stars in the sky, you can believe that they’re watching over you. Sometimes God chooses very special people to do very special jobs. Mind you, you have to be very, very important and extra-extra special to be chosen by God to do these jobs.’ Nancy waited for her words to sink in, then carried Josephine back to sit on her bed.

  ‘Aunty Nancy?’

  ‘Yes, Josephine?’

  ‘Do you think I got chosen to be special?’

  ‘Oh, most definitely, darling.’

  ‘So am I supposed to do something extra-extra special?’

  ‘Well, you know, Josephine, I think you already have.’

  ‘What have I done, Aunty Nancy?’

  Nancy took Josephine’s hand. ‘You overcame huge challenges and many other children couldn’t have done that. You taught us all what it is to be brave. When you walk into a room you bring with you a heart full of love, compassion and understanding that I have never seen from a child so young. I know you’ve spent many hours with Mr Bell and made him feel comforted and eased the pain in his heart that has lain there for so many years. You are so very special, Josephine, and I have a feeling that in the future everyone who crosses your path will be a better person for having known you. Your mummy and daddy would be so very proud of you, darling.’

  Josephine lay down, snuggled under the bedclothes and closed her eyes. Nancy leaned over and kissed her forehead. ‘Is there anything at all you’d like for your birthday?’ she whispered.

  There was no answer. Josephine must already be fast asleep and dreaming, Nancy thought. She stood up to leave and suddenly Josephine opened her eyes and said, ‘Ringlets.’

  ‘Pardon me?’ said Nancy, puzzled.

  ‘I would like real ringlets for my birthday,’ said Josephine, and fell asleep.

  Nancy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Ringlets indeed! Well, if that was what she wanted that was what she would get. At least she’d asked for something that was possible. Nancy gave a sigh of relief.

  The next few days were busy, with the approach of Christmas, the practices for the nativity play and the carol service. There were all the donated Christmas gifts to be sorted and wrapped too. At this time of year nobody saw Cook. The kitchen door was firmly closed on the days before Christmas Eve. The smells that drifted all along the corridors were so tantalising and the nuns hung around the kitchen door in huddles, trying to work out what was cooking.

  One day Mother saw them there. ‘Sisters, could you kindly remember who you are? You must retain your dignity at all times,’ she said. Then the smell had wafted under her nose and she, too, was dreaming suddenly of all the lovely food that Cook was making. ‘Let’s move along, shall we?’ she said, gliding purposefully away. ‘Mmmmm,’ she said when she was out of earshot.

  Upstairs in the nursery Nancy was making sure she had collected enough rags to do Josephine’s hair. It was the birthday party in two days’ time and tomorrow evening she would put the little girl’s hair into rags to make ringlets. Never had Nancy seen the children so excited about hair. It was the talk of the nursery department. The beautiful hair that reached down her back was brushed over and over. That afternoon when Nancy had asked if they wanted to be in the playroom she was told that they were far too busy: they were taking turns to brush Josephine’s hair. As the afternoon turned into evening, she had to take the brush away, telling them that if they didn’t stop soon Josephine would have no hair left to make ringlets.

  Nancy had taken a few of the children to the cottage to collect Oliver for a walk and they had stayed for a little while. Naturally Josephine told Mr Bell about the ringlets for her birthday and Nancy had seen his eyes grow sad. She was about to change the subject when Mr Bell suddenly smiled and looked at her. Not a word was spoken but that look was telling her something. She didn’t know what it was, and didn’t like to ask in front of the children, but there was contentment in that look and Nancy was so thrilled. Just a year ago she hadn’t known this man at all and that had been a mistake. It had taken Oliver, little Billy and Josephine to bring him the comfort he needed for his heart to heal. It was really all rather wonderful, she thought, walking back to the house.

  Nancy had worked hard to ensure that everything she would normally do on Christmas Eve was done early so they could all enjoy the birthday party. There had been no new children this Christmas to throw her into yet another panic. Now just let all go to plan with the party and I will be happy and grateful, she thought. Up in the attic the Christmas socks, all with a little bell attached, were in a box ready to be hung up. Some beautiful dolls with clothes had arrived, along with a splendid spinning top, some toy cars and lots of sweets. Nancy was very pleased indeed.

  Cook had made fairy cakes for the children and the cake for Mr Bell was almost finished. The tea party would start in the dining room and then they would all go to the television room to have Cook’s special cake. Eating cake in the television room was such a treat that the children could hardly contain their excitement. Nancy knew the mess would take ages to clear up but she didn’t care. ‘Just this once,’ she kept saying to herself.

  On the evening before Christmas Eve, all the children were put to bed at the usual time, except for Josephine, who was allowed to stay up late to have her hair done. ‘Oh, how wonderful it will be,’ everyone said. ‘Can you imagine long ringlets all the way down her back?’ Her eyes sparkled and shone and there was a spot of colour in both of her cheeks as she sat in the chair in front of Nancy in the television room. Nancy took the first strand of hair and began winding. Josephine never moved, not once. She sat totally still while her hair was being wound round the rags. Her tummy was bubbling with excitement. Aunty Nancy had told her how special she was and Josephine Jones felt very important indeed.

  Much later when Nancy took Josephine back along the corridor and put her into bed she wondered how on earth she would sleep with all those rags in her hair. Were they too tight or too loose? Please let them be perfect, she prayed.

  There were
lots of oooohs and aaaahs when the children woke the next morning and saw the rags in Josephine’s hair. They had many questions for her.

  ‘How many rags are there?’ they asked.

  ‘Hundreds, it took hours and hours,’ she said importantly. ‘I was up almost half the night.’

  ‘Did it hurt?’ Martha asked.

  Josephine nodded. ‘Yes, very much, but I stayed completely still.’

  ‘You are brave, Josephine,’ said Martha.

  Nancy was listening to them, amused by it all. What fun children can be, she thought, not for the first time.

  It was going to be a busy day. The nativity play was to take place in the afternoon and Josephine had been chosen to be Mary so her head could be covered with a veil. The rags would be taken out just before the party.

  At eleven o’clock the children were wrapped up and sent out to play for half an hour while Nancy went to the parlour to check everything was in order and to reassure Mother Superior that all the arrangements were in place. The play was at two thirty. At three fifteen there would be Josephine’s special birthday sandwiches in the dining room. At four Mr Bell was due and they would all gather in the television room where the big table would be set with tea, juice and cake.

  She knocked on the door of Mother’s room and went in when Mother called. Mother smiled when she saw Nancy’s flushed face and the sparkle in her eyes. This was going to be a wonderful Christmas for all of them. ‘Heavens, Mother,’ Nancy said, ‘could we ever have believed this time last year what the year ahead would bring? Oh, Mother, it has been absolutely incredible. I can’t even put into words how happy I am. The children are so happy this year.’ Mother got up and brought over her beautiful china cups and saucers and poured them both a cup of tea. ‘God has looked down upon us this year and greatly blessed us.’

  ‘I bet He’s had a good laugh, too, Mother.’

  ‘Yes, I rather think I can agree with you there.’

  ‘I think this is the first Christmas Eve when I’ve not been in a complete panic of some sort.’

  ‘We shall thank God at the service for not sending us more challenges.’

  ‘I will drink to that,’ said Nancy, laughing, and they raised their cups. There was a loud knock at the front door and Nancy and Mother paused with their cups on their lips then slowly put their cups gently back down on the saucers. They looked in silence at each other and both jumped at another loud knock.

  Nancy raised her eyes to Heaven. ‘Oh dear Lord, Mother,’ Nancy said. ‘It looks like we’ve spoken too soon.’

  The Biggest, Most Beautiful Eyes in the Whole Wide World

  Michael wasn’t due home until late evening and they were going to enjoy a Christmas Eve supper together in front of the fire. Jennifer was looking forward to it. She put more coal on the fire and moved the guard in front of it. Fresh air, that was what she needed this morning. She was determined not to sit around feeling sorry for herself today, Christmas Eve.

  Coat on, she stepped out into the cold. It was looking like snow, but she didn’t care. The new year would be better for them. Michael deserved to come home to a happy wife and she was going to do everything she could to make sure he did. ‘I want to be happy, I want to be happy,’ she said over and over, as she began to walk with no idea where she was going.

  Jennifer wondered about God. She had always gone to church as a child but since the baby she hadn’t set foot inside one. She was too angry. As she reached the end of Osborne Road she saw the lights of the church were on and stopped to look at them. She made her way along the street and paused at the door before opening it. There were only a few people inside, obviously preparing for Midnight Mass. Jennifer walked down the side aisle to where the candles were burning. She made the sign of the cross, then knelt down and prayed. A beautiful feeling of calm came over her. She looked over at the crib, where Mary and Joseph gazed at their tiny baby boy. Jennifer didn’t cry. Instead there was a warm feeling inside and she smiled.

  She had no idea how long she had knelt there when she stood up to light a candle. As the flame flickered, she looked up at the cross on the altar. ‘You took my baby – you even took my puppy. They tell me God works in mysterious ways that we don’t always understand. Please, God, I will try to understand. I won’t complain but, oh, dear God, please give me my baby. Please God, please.’ Jennifer waited, then made the sign of the cross again and made her way out of the church.

  She took a deep breath when she stepped out into the cold, rubbing her hands together. It was a freezing morning but there was warmth inside her and lightness in her step as she continued her walk. ‘Oh, I do feel better,’ she said, surprised, to herself. ‘Time to move on, Jennifer Harrison. Heavens above, I’m talking to myself now,’ she said out loud and then laughed.

  She walked all the way along Sandyford Road, and when she was approaching the gates to Nazareth House she heard children playing. Jennifer made herself stop and listen and it actually made her smile. They sounded happy and she was glad of that. Children should be happy and excited on Christmas Eve. The first flakes of snow began to fall and she began to walk away, then suddenly stopped. What was that sound? Surely not? The children at the orphanage wouldn’t be allowed to have a dog, would they?

  Jennifer’s heart almost froze as she remembered bringing the puppy for a walk last year and how they’d had to drag him out when he’d seen all the trees … No. Oh no, it just wasn’t possible. She stood still, willing her heart to stop hammering in her chest, until a lady passing asked her if she was all right. ‘I’m fine,’ Jennifer said, and began to hurry away. She had walked for ten minutes when she swung round and walked back to Nazareth House. This time she went to the gates and peered through. To her left she could see a cottage with smoke billowing out of the chimney and a wooded area with children running about. She went through the gates and hid behind a tree, not thinking what she would say if she was caught. She held her breath when she saw the Labrador scampering around the trees and the children running after him, squealing with laughter.

  Jennifer couldn’t have moved even if she’d tried to. He’s mine, she thought. He’s my puppy. I don’t know how I know, I just do. But how did he get here? She continued to watch the children and had to smile. There was one little boy who the puppy seemed to keep returning to time and time again. ‘Oliver!’ he was shouting. ‘Here, boy.’ Oliver stood on his back legs, resting his paws on the child’s shoulders and licked his face, wagging his tail frantically. Jennifer laughed. Oh how wonderful, she thought, never taking her eyes off them for a single moment. Suddenly Oliver looked towards her and jumped away from Billy. Jennifer gasped as the child ran towards her, then stopped. He seemed to be looking straight at her and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. When he smiled she jumped behind the tree again. Please, no, she thought, keeping quite still.

  She was saved by someone calling for the children and listened carefully until their voices had faded. Jennifer peeped out from behind the tree. The dog was still in the wood. Then the door of the cottage opened and he trotted inside. Jennifer was shivering, but she couldn’t move from the spot so she stayed there, thinking. The little boy, could it be his dog? But he lived here and wouldn’t be allowed a dog. Jennifer’s puppy had been three months old when they’d lost him. Surely the orphanage would never have taken in a puppy. Then she thought of those big beautiful eyes. She had wanted to pick him up and run away with him. There was just something about him. Love me, those eyes said. Play with me, laugh with me.

  Jennifer’s heart wouldn’t calm down so she had to close her eyes, take several deep breaths and count to ten. What’s happening to me? She wondered. The snow that had starting falling earlier had stopped a little while ago and Jennifer had no idea when it had started again. All she knew was that her coat was soaking yet her face was burning. In later years when she looked back, she never knew what had made her step out from behind the tree that day and purposefully march down the driveway, not stopping until she reached the b
ig oak door. She knocked once or twice and waited with an impatience she had never felt before for someone to answer.

  The first person Jennifer saw was Mother Superior and the second was a lady standing behind her with a questioning look. Kind blue eyes were gazing at her and Jennifer stared past Mother Superior at the owner of those eyes. ‘Whatever it is, I will understand,’ the eyes said. Then the lady smiled – and the tears that Jennifer had promised she would not cry on Christmas Eve came pouring out.

  Mother stepped out of the way as the lady rushed forward. There were a million thoughts running through Nancy’s head. Was this one of the girls who had had their child taken from them, was she in some sort of trouble? Then common sense kicked in. ‘You’re freezing. Come inside, child,’ she said. Mother looked at Nancy and sighed. ‘I’ll take her upstairs with me, Mother. She looks half frozen to death. What is your name?’

  ‘Jennifer,’ she whispered, although for a moment she wanted to laugh at being called a child.

  ‘I’m Nancy.’ Then there was an arm around her and the tears came again. Jennifer found herself being led up some stairs through a door and into a small kitchenette, where her coat and hat were removed. ‘Back in a minute,’ Nancy said. Jennifer sat down and listened to a kettle boiling. It was so comforting and warm here.

  Nancy returned and busied herself making tea and opening tins. ‘The best cakes, I think,’ she told Jennifer. She sat down opposite Jennifer and poured her some tea. ‘Drink up,’ she said.

  Jennifer did as she was told. Somehow, she thought, everyone would do what this lady told them to do. She was kind but firm and Jennifer liked that.

  Nancy waited. It was never any good hurrying people. Best they do it in their own time. This young girl had cried many tears, she suspected. I hope she isn’t the mother of one of our children, poor soul.