Orphans of War. Leah Fleming
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her. Grandma came to see what the noise was and stared down at her.
‘What’s up now, child? What’s brought this on?’ She patted her on the shoulder like a pet dog.
‘They won’t come…they won’t come…I know it,’ Maddy spluttered.
‘Now how did you come up with such an idea? Of course they’ll come. They’re on their way,’ Grandma argued, but Maddy was too upset to guard her tongue.
‘But you don’t like my mummy and they’ll go away again and never come back,’ she blurted.
‘Here, blow your nose,’ came the reply. ‘Now who’s been telling you silly tales? How can I dislike her? I’ve never met her. You’re too young to understand grownup affairs. We’ll have a perfectly pleasant celebration, so stop all this silliness, dry your eyes and go to the kitchen for a biscuit.’
‘I don’t want a biscuit, I want Panda,’ Maddy sniffed. ‘I just want my mummy and daddy to come home.’ She felt foolish and awkward now. She’d poured out all her fears and Grandma didn’t understand. How could she? She’d not even been to her sparents’ wedding.
‘You’re a big girl for cuddling toys, Madeleine.’
‘I want Panda and Aunt Plum,’ she argued, pushing past her grandma.
‘Oh, please yourself, but stop snivelling and pull yourself together. Crying gets you nowhere. I was only trying to help,’ said Grandma, turning towards her, looking hurt, but Maddy was off down the stairs in search of her beloved black and white companion.
Panda heard all her troubles and never answered back.
It snowed hard again overnight, drifting across the lanes into banks of snow, covering the railways lines with ice. Everyone’s pre-Christmas travel plans would be disrupted with this snowfall, Plum sighed. Sowerthwaite had tucked itself in for the duration, used to bad winters and being cut off for days. The school was closed for the holidays, the food bought in and the children in the hostel were trying to be good, itching to be out on tin trays and sleds down the sledge runs.
Matron was huffing and puffing about the extra work, frustrated that her leave to be with her sister near Coventry might be cancelled. The news from the city was bad and she was worried by no word from Dora that she was safe.
‘I’ll have to go and see for myself, Mrs Belfield,’ she insisted, and headed off into the snow to catch the first available train south.
Gerald sent a cryptic note from somewhere hot and dusty, but there had still been no word from Arthur and Dolly. That was only to be expected due to the weather conditions and delays. Everything was in place for their arrival and for the children to have a party at the Hall on Boxing Day. The excitement was mounting and once chores were done they were out on the hills having a great time.
Tonight was the Christmas Nativity play and they were all taking part except Greg, who was helping stack chairs at the back of the church. His voice was well and truly broken and he growled like a bear so that got him out of the fancy-dress parade.
Mrs Batty had warned them that Billy Mellor’s donkey was brought out of its shed to do its annual turn parading down the aisle on its way to Bethlehem, no doubt leaving its annual deposit, which the verger would sweep up for his roses before it gassed the congregation. Hitler might do his worst but the donkey would do its duty on cue. Enid, Peggy, Nancy and Gloria were all kitted out as angelic hosts with wire halos on bands round their heads.
‘I look daft in this costume,’ Enid moaned. ‘I’m too old for dressing up. Look, there’s Alf and his mates.’ She pointed out the line of soldiers in the back pew, sticking out her tiny breast buds in a silly pose.
‘You’re too young to be bothering about them,’ Maddy said, but Enid ignored her, turning to Peggy with a loud voice. ‘No one would look at her twice. She’s only jealous.’
‘No she’s not.’ Gloria stepped in to defend her friend. ‘You’re common.’
‘Hark at the kettle calling the pot black, Conley! Takes one to know one!’ Peggy added her pennyworth.
‘Shurrup, fat face!’ Gloria replied. The three angels jostled and nudged each other, knocking Nancy into the stone pillar until Maddy stepped in.
‘Shush! You’re in church. The play will be starting soon. It’s too important an evening for quarrelling. Thanks for sticking up for me, Gloria,’ Maddy whispered. ‘But we don’t need to bother with anything they say, do we?’
‘Ooh, listen to Miss Hoity-Toity,’ Enid giggled, and turned her attention back to the audience.
Maddy took her place in the choir, hidden behind the chancel screen. Everything shimmered in the candlelight. The church windows were boarded up in case any light shone through. How comforting that blitz and bombers had not stopped the Christmas festivities. How confusing that in Germany they would have their own carols and candles, all of them, allies and enemies, praying to the same God. It didn’t make any sense.
When they all returned to the Vic and the children were in bed on pain of being given a sack of coal by Father Christmas for being naughty, there were still stockings to fill and parcels to wrap for tomorrow night. At least being busy there was no time to worry about Gerald. The Nativity had gone well and for once the donkey did his dump in the churchyard, not the aisle. The children had behaved impeccably and everyone was saying what a credit the Brooklyn children were to the Old Vic. She had to admit they played their parts on cue. Gloria sang out like a bell and Mitchell read his lesson like a trooper. There was hot fruit cordial in the church hall and spiced buns flavoured with home-made mincemeat that were wolfed down in seconds. The vicar gave a vote of thanks. Pleasance had made an effort, wearing her thick fur coat, Algie and Julia alongside, so the Hall was well represented. Poor Miss Blunt was stuck somewhere between here and Coventry and unlikely to return. It was turning out to be a good Christmas after all.
Plum’d enjoyed all the children’s preparations, making sure they made presents for each other, all the secrets and surprises, letters and cards home, and the parcels arriving for some of the children who lived far away.
Without children the Brooklyn Christmas was a stodgy affair of much wine and little cheer, sherry gatherings and small talk and gossip, church and long walks. This was going to be a real Dingley Dell festival at the Brooklyn: the excitement of parcels unwrapped, extra food rations and treats, decorations in every room and fires lit, a great tree cut down and decorated, and above all the chatter of little voices singing carols. All they were waiting for was Dolly and Arthur’s arrival by train to complete the picture.
Pleasance was fooling no one by pretending it was all a waste of time and expense, for even she had given a hand wrapping up parcels and sending cards this year. No one could say Sowerthwaite didn’t look beautiful in the snow, icicles spiking down the rooftops.
Lost in these thoughts, Plum didn’t hear the bell ring.
‘Mrs Belfield! Phone!’
Plum raced over to the hall shelf. ‘Sow’thwaite 157,’ she smiled. At last! What perfect timing! ‘It’ll be Maddy’s parents,’ she yelled to Mrs Batty, who was preparing the morning’s vegetables in the kitchen. She smiled at her ruffled reflection in the mirror.
Then her expression went from grin to grimace in two seconds, her mouth tightening. She slumped on to the hall chair in a daze. ‘When…? How…? I see…Yes, Yes…I see…Thank you for letting us know…Is there any hope?…I see…Yes…It is dreadful…’ She slammed the phone down and sat winded. Some disembodied voice had just shattered hopes of a cheerful Christmas. Mrs Batty was hovering, curious.
‘What is it, Mrs Belfield? Not bad news? Not Master Gerald? You’ve gone white,’ she said.
‘No, it’s not him. I’m afraid it’s Maddy’s parents. Their ship was overdue, reports are coming in that it went down en route home in the Atlantic, somewhere off the coast of Ireland…enemy fire. They’re not among the survivors…Oh dear