Orphans of War. Leah Fleming
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could hear Mr and Mrs Batty whispering in the kitchen, after lunch on Boxing Day. It was something to do with terrible news at the Hall but when she popped her head round the door they drew back and changed the subject.
She was good at earwigging, hovering behind doors at Elijah Street, listening to stuff she shouldn’t. That’s how she’d learned from her aunties about the birds and bees and how babies got made, how rubber johnnies stopped them and how Old Ma Phipps could get rid of them if you was caught. Manchester seemed a long way away, and she wondered if Mam was thinking about them. Would she send them a present?
She’d never had a Christmas like this one. Elijah Street was just pop and sweets, singing and fighting and waiting outside the public in the dark. There was always a toy but it was broken by teatime. There was nothing about Baby Jesus in the manger and candles in the church, singing carols in the snow and making presents for each other. Everyone went to church in Sowerthwaite; only Freda and her mam went to the Kingdom Hall and they didn’t believe in Christmas Day.
At Elijah Street they were sent to Sunday school to get out of the house of an afternoon but it was just a tin shack hall with no candles and decorations. She’d never seen such a big Christmas tree as the one in Brooklyn Hall. It smelled of disinfectant and melting wax. They spent ages decorating the one in the hostel with tinsel and paper chains. It was lovely.
Did Mam ever think about the two of them? How could she just shove them on a train with no word that they were safe? Sid had already forgotten their old home. He looked blank at her when she asked him about Mam. Gloria got hot and cold just thinking where she might be. One minute she was sad, the next spitting flames. What Mam had done wasn’t right but coming here was great. She didn’t want to worry about someone who didn’t care about them, not now.
They were getting ready for the Boxing Day party at the Hall, and she was dressed in her new pinafore dress and shirt. It was navy-blue corduroy with rick-rack braid where the hem had been let down–not very partified at all but it was better than her other skirt and jumper.
Sid had on his new Fair Isle jumper that itched him, and his ginger curls were plastered down with Mr Batty’s Brylcreem. Father Christmas had got the right address and Sid was thrilled with his toy farm and tractor, and she was pleased with her crinoline doll in its own box until she saw Maddy wobbling on her new bike on Christmas Day. Why hadn’t he brought her one too?
Greg was helping her ride it on the path where the snow and ice were cleared away. Maddy was wearing a new velvet dress, all shiny and soft, the colour of peacock’s feathers, under her school mac. It wasn’t fair. She’d had two Christmasses–one at the Hall and the other at the hostel.
Greg was wearing long trousers and a new blazer, strutting around like the cock of the midden. Everyone was dressed up and on best behaviour. Maddy wanted her to see all the presents. There was a little toy sweetie shop with jars and scales and boxes of Dolly Mixtures given to her, and a book and presents from the staff. It wasn’t fair.
Gloria begged for a shot on the bike but Greg said her legs were too short to ride it and that got her mad, so she and Sid hid behind the sofa and scoffed all the jelly beans in the toy sweet shop. Aunt Plum was cross. She didn’t smile once but, Gloria realised now, that would be because of the terrible news.
Now as they stood in the porch to go off to their proper party, Mrs Batty patted her head and told her to play nicely with Maddy ‘Be a good girl and no fighting…’ They skated down the path and Gloria had forgotten her mittens. The snow was too cold to make balls without gloves so she darted back in through the open door to the basket where their hoods and scarves were put.
The Battys were still gabbing about the terrible news and she moved closer. What she heard had her running out into the chill. Wait till she told Maddy that she’d heard it first!
Maddy loved her new bike but it was too icy to ride on it properly. Father Christmas’d given her lots of nice surprises but not the one she really wanted, which was for Mummy and Daddy to arrive on time and sing carols at the piano and tell her all about their travels.
She’d begged to spend Christmas Day with the vaccies. It was fun at the hostel, with turkey and Christmas pudding with threepenny bits for everyone. They’d played silly games and charades and there was a singsong. Aunt Plum was very quiet, though, and looked a bit tired. Miss Blunt was away and the vicar and his wife came to help.
Now, on Boxing Day, Grandma was inspecting the buffet table for the bun fight this afternoon.
‘I don’t know why we have to do this?’ she snapped. ‘Children, let loose around the house like wild animals, are not my idea of fun. It’ll all end in tears. Oh, do shift that vase out of reach, Maddy. It’s priceless.’ Maddy duly obliged.
‘I’m not sure that sort of bright blue suits the child,’ Grandma added, eyeing her dress again. ‘You need red hair to carry off that colour. She’d be better off in a kilt and jumper, much more sensible.’
‘Oh, Mother…let it rest,’ Aunt Plum snapped as she dragged on her cigarette. ‘Let her enjoy the party dress. There won’t be many more in the shops if this blasted war goes on and on,’ she sighed. ‘If you can’t dress up on Boxing Day, it’s a poor show.’
‘Who rattled your cage this morning? You’ve been a crosspatch for days…This was all your idea. What time are the hordes descending?’ asked Grandma, lighting her own cigarette.
‘Soon. I just think it’s good for the youngsters to mix with all ages. It’ll do the old codgers good to have a bit of life about the place. All they do is snore and eat. Uncle Algie’s promised to do some conjuring tricks if I can peel him away from the wireless. Aunt Julia has promised to give a recitation…’
‘Oh God, must we?’
‘No, she said it was suitable for children.’
‘How would she know? She’s never had one of her own,’ snapped Grandma.
The bickering went on but Maddy was too excited to get upset. Those two were always sniping at each other, like Uncle George and Ivy, up and down the bar of The Feathers. It didn’t mean anything. Then she thought of last Christmas and how so much had changed and how sad it was not to be back where she truly belonged.
Then Gloria and Sid arrived early and she thought she ought to let them have a try out of her bike.
Holding the saddle, she let Gloria sit up but her legs wouldn’t reach the pedals and they kept slipping sideways. Two falls and she’d had enough.
‘We mustn’t get dirty,’ Maddy whispered. ‘I mustn’t spoil this hem.’
‘I’ll have it when it’s too short…It looks silly on you,’ said Gloria, rubbing her fingers on the velvet pile.
‘No it doesn’t,’ Maddy snapped back, pulling the skirt away from her. Why was she being so mean? Then she spied a crocodile of vaccies from the hostel coming up the drive, carrying their best shoes in baskets. She led them through the back entrance and the cloakroom to change their shoes and take off their coats.
The parcel from America had been full of shirts and trousers, and everyone was dressed up. Enid and Peggy were sporting earrings and painted lips–now they really looked silly–but Greg and the boys were looking smart and grown up. Maddy wondered if he still didn’t believe in Father Christmas now.
Everyone collected chairs for the game in the hall, marching round the tiled floor to the music from a wind-up gramophone and rushing for the seats when the music stopped. The dining-room table was extended with a huge white cloth on which were plates of sandwiches, mock sausage rolls, mince pies and wodges of Ilse’s crumb cake. They had to stand for grace, and then it was every hand for itself as the boys leaped to get platefuls of grub.
After tea and pop–Sid spilled his on the rug–Sukie and Blaze rushed round trying to mop up all the crumbs and then it was time for the children to sing for their supper to the assembly in the drawing room. Gloria did her usual show-off routine, singing ‘Bless This House’, which the vicar’s