An Orphan in the Snow. Molly Green
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when they’re abroad to stop them going mad. Can you imagine their lives – flying around trying to shoot down Germans and desperately trying not to get killed themselves?’
‘I can’t.’ June felt sick at the idea. Murray’s face flitted across her mind. She’d been curt with him when he hadn’t deserved it and it made her feel thoroughly mean. He’d only been trying to be nice and she’d cut him off – more than once. Was it because she liked him and didn’t want to let herself become interested in anyone who might be killed at any moment? A shudder ran across her shoulders.
‘… and I don’t suppose your Murray is any different.’
June gave a start as she heard Iris say his name.
‘Junie, have you heard a word I’ve been saying?’
‘I’m sorry, Iris. I was miles away.’
‘Thinking of Murray Andrews, were we?’ Iris’s eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘I daresay he’ll be at the dance.’
June’s heart skipped the next beat.
‘’Course I wasn’t,’ she answered crossly. ‘I was thinking of what you said about all of them. It must be awful.’
‘Well, they’ll soon have a load of Yanks to see to,’ Iris said. ‘It will give them something to grumble about. I’ve heard their uniforms are much more attractive than our boys’, and they’ve got more money too. And they’re very generous with their gifts, so I’m told – nylons and chocolate and all sorts of luxuries we can’t get.’
Athena looked up from her book. ‘Can’t you two talk about something else besides men?’ she said. ‘It’s getting on my nerves.’
‘Can’t think of anything more fun,’ Iris retorted. ‘You’re always so quiet, Athena. Have you got a boyfriend?’
‘None of your business if I have or not.’ Athena snapped her book shut. ‘I’ll leave you two alone. You’ve obviously got private stuff to talk about.’ She rose up.
‘Don’t know what’s got into her.’ Iris frowned at the disappearing figure.
‘How long has she been here?’
‘Not that long. There’s a rumour her fiancé jilted her at the altar and that’s why she’s so touchy.’
‘Oh, how dreadful,’ June said, full of concern for the young woman. ‘But if he can do that, she’s well rid of him, I should think.’
‘Yes, but there’s no need for her to be so bitter and twisted. There’s plenty of women who’ve had worse – their men killed or injured in this bloody war. You just have to get on with it.’ Iris wrapped one of her dark curls around her finger and let it spring back.
‘We could ask her if she’d like to come with us,’ June ventured.
‘I’ve asked her two or three times. She always declines.’
‘Maybe I’ll have a go. If she’s unhappy it might do her the world of good.’ June looked across at Iris. ‘I know how I would’ve felt if it hadn’t been for you and Bertie. Perhaps she just needs a friend to talk to.’
June glanced out of her bedroom window as she cleaned her teeth after the usual breakfast rush. It had snowed through the night and icicles had formed on the window panes, making the room feel even colder than usual. She shivered as she put her toothbrush in the glass over the washbasin, her breath appearing in short puffs, clouding the mottled mirror that she’d found in an empty room and installed in her own. At the same moment she heard screams coming from the floor above. She dashed up the flight of stairs and, without knocking on the nursery door, rushed straight in. Hilda was shouting and screaming with rage and gripping one hand with the other.
‘Oh, goodness, what—?’
‘That little tyke bit me.’
‘Let me see.’
Hilda thrust out her arm and June looked closely. There was a bite mark, no doubt about that, but it was minute and had only brought up red marks – there was no blood. Not exactly warranting such a fuss, June thought. But this was her opportunity.
Her eyes flew to Lizzie who was cowering in the corner. She was pulling on her thumb, her eyes wild with fear.
‘Look at her – she’s not even sorry.’
Keep calm, June said to herself. Don’t rise to her. She walked over to where Lizzie was curled up.
‘Lizzie,’ she said quietly so as not to alarm her even more, and sat on the floor beside her. She touched Lizzie’s arm but the child pulled away immediately. ‘Please tell me what happened. I know you didn’t mean it.’
‘As if she’ll speak,’ Hilda broke in. ‘I’ll tell you what happened. She meant it all right. All I did was tell her off because she crayoned over the walls. Look!’ Hilda pointed to the bottom of the wall by a cupboard door. Lizzie had drawn a childish picture of a house with four figures, two grown-ups and a boy and a girl, all holding hands, and then she’d put a great big black cross through it.
Tears filled June’s eyes as she realised immediately what the child was trying to say – that she once had a family – a mother and father and brother – and they all lived together in a house. The black cross had wiped them all away, which must have been how it seemed to Lizzie. Now she had no one. June’s heart went out to the little orphan. It was hard to imagine how desperate Lizzie must be feeling, especially with all her words trapped inside her.
‘I snatched the crayons away from her and that’s when she bit me,’ Hilda said, half turning away and giving the slight mark on her arm a little squeeze.
I’ll pretend I didn’t see that, June thought in disgust. ‘That bite needs attention,’ she said, awkwardly rising to her feet. ‘Why don’t you go and see the nurse and I’ll wait here with her until you come back?’
‘I’m not supposed to leave her,’ Hilda said sullenly.
‘You’ll only be gone the same time as you leave her every day at dinner.’ June deliberately made her voice reasonable so Hilda would have no reason not to leave the nursery. ‘Just go and get it seen to.’
Hilda slammed out of the door and June breathed a sigh of relief. She’d need more than twenty minutes to tackle this intolerable situation but there was something she could do immediately.
‘Lizzie.’ June bent down again. ‘Would you like to come for a walk with me in the garden and make a snowman?’
To her joy, Lizzie nodded.
‘Have you got a coat?’
Lizzie shook her head. She must have, June thought. Every child had a coat.
‘A warm jacket?’
Lizzie shook her head again and screwed up her face. Worrying that she couldn’t take the little girl outside in the snow with no coat, June went over to one of the cupboards. She swished the hangers and pulled out a grey wool jacket. Luckily there was a pair of mittens pushed in the pockets, held together by a string.
‘Try this, Lizzie. And you can borrow my scarf. I’ll pick it up from my room on the way downstairs. Come on. Let’s hurry.’ She smiled at Lizzie. ‘This is going to be fun and our little secret.’
June put her hand out and pulled Lizzie up. She put her finger to her lips and Lizzie put her own little finger to her rosebud mouth. This was progress indeed, June thought, smiling at the child. They sneaked out of the door and down the four flights of stairs, Lizzie clutching June’s hand. It felt wonderful to feel Lizzie’s hand in hers – to know the little girl