An Orphan in the Snow. Molly Green
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now she had a purpose. She was going to look after the children who lived in this huge old house. Try to make it up to Clara. Make sure she would never forget her dearest sister.
After the children had all taken turns to tell June their names and ages, she looked round for Matron, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. Not knowing what to do next, she went to Matron’s office and tapped gently on her door but there was no sound from within.
‘Are you looking for Matron, Miss Lavender?’
June turned to see Miss Ayles, the history and geography teacher, regarding her from behind her spectacles.
‘Yes. I was wondering what she’d like me to do. And if sometime this afternoon I could clean my room. It smells of damp and I don’t think it’s good to sleep in such an atmosphere.’
‘I’m not surprised. It’s been empty for quite a while. We’ve not had an assistant to Matron since the war started but now we’ve got ten more children – evacuees – it’s not been easy with the shortage of books and pencils.’ Miss Ayles peered at June. ‘So I should go and get your room done, Miss Lavender, while Matron takes her hour-and-a-half nap.’ She wrinkled her thin nose. ‘Some nap,’ she added under her breath. ‘This might be your only opportunity before bedtime.’
‘Does everyone live in?’
‘The teachers and nurses are up on the third floor, the maids on the fourth. I have my own cottage as do Cook and Matron.’ There was a note of triumph in her voice and June hid a smile. ‘Is there anything else I can answer?’
‘No, you’ve been most helpful,’ June said. ‘I think I’ll go to the kitchen and ask Mrs Bertram where I can find some cleaning things.’
Cleaning took longer than she’d thought. She went downstairs more than once to check Matron wasn’t looking for her but all was silent. The children were in class, or if they were in the younger group they were having a nap themselves. But, two hours later, June ran her eye over the room. She’d managed to straighten the wardrobe, get rid of the dead flowers and clean out the vase, and she’d washed everything down, including the windows and frames and wainscot, with soap and vinegar and bleach. It was a remarkable improvement though the room still looked sadly stripped of homely items. Somewhere she had a photograph of herself and her sisters with their mother. She delved into her travel bag, unwrapped it from its newspaper and smiled as she set it on the shelf above the fireplace. She stood back to admire it. One photograph, but it made all the difference.
A few paintings – prints of course – would brighten the room but she had no money to buy anything extra. Maybe she’d find something in a second-hand shop when she’d settled in properly and saved a bit of cash. Until then, she was satisfied the room looked infinitely cleaner and smelled infinitely fresher. After the long journey she’d surely sleep tonight.
June opened her eyes and for a few moments wondered where she was. Then she smiled. She now lived in a grand country house all the way up north in Liverpool. If her mother could see her she’d be amazed. But grand house or not, the room still felt deadly cold. She sat up, wrapping the extra blanket she’d found in the wardrobe last night around her shoulders, and let her mind drift over the last twenty-four hours. Bingham Hall was certainly a different world from her last two years living with Stella and her three boys in Wisbech. She pictured them all and suddenly felt a stab of homesickness. They were the only family she cared about now, besides Aunt Ada. A tear trickled down June’s cheek and she quickly brushed it away. She had a new life now, and she was determined to make a difference to these children’s lives.
Well, she wasn’t going to make a difference in anyone’s life by sitting here thinking. She scrambled out of bed and pulled back the short velvet curtains, which were spotted with age. She peered through the glass panes, pleased she’d cleaned them yesterday, though she could still smell the traces of the vinegar she’d used. The fog had cleared and everywhere was white. Snow, like giant bales of cotton wool, lay over the fields and trees as far as her eyes could travel. Thick and white and silent.
She couldn’t see another house in sight. She’d never lived anywhere this remote in her life. But standing there looking out of the misted-up window at a fairyland view, she felt a sense of calm seep through her bones. Her mother, bless her, was finally at peace. June had been grateful Stella had given her a home, but it hadn’t been easy looking after the three boys while her sister’s husband had been away fighting. Stella had had little control over her sons, leaving them to June. ‘I’m better to go out to work,’ Stella told her sister, as she left each morning to work in the munitions factory. ‘And I need the company,’ she’d added, never thinking her sister might occasionally like to be with people her own age too, June had thought at the time. After her husband was killed Stella had gone out dancing or to the pictures most nights, and six months later she’d found herself a new boyfriend. She’d been astounded when June told her she’d been offered a job up north.
‘What will I do without you?’ she’d said. ‘The boys need some stability and you know how fond they are of you.’ Her eyes pleaded with June.
June wasn’t at all sure that was true – it was much more likely that Stella wouldn’t have the freedom she’d enjoyed lately – but it didn’t stop her feeling guilty that she was leaving her sister in the lurch.
It had been a shock to June when she’d moved from sleepy Wisbech and stayed with her aunt in London those last three days. When she’d lived there while training to be a nursery nurse there’d only been rumours of a war. This time she’d seen whole streets reduced to a pile of rubble, and the bombs at night had left her tired and jumpy. She had no desire to live in London again. How had the Londoners gone through bombing, night after night, day after day, with such bravery? Was she being a coward to escape it all? But surely vulnerable orphans and evacuees at Dr Barnardo’s needed help just as much as wounded soldiers and citizens.
Now June gave a sigh but it was more of contentment. Whatever lay in store for her, for once she hadn’t been manipulated or made to feel guilty. This new life was of her own making. She’d take the consequences whatever they were.
Feeling more sure of herself she washed and dressed and half ran down the four flights of steps. Iris was the first person she spotted.
‘Bet you haven’t seen snow like this in London.’
‘I must admit I’ve never seen it as thick.’
Iris glanced at June’s shoes that Aunt Ada had bought her. ‘You need boots for our northern winters,’ she said. ‘Those shoes won’t do at all.’
‘I didn’t bring any.’ And had no money to buy them, June wanted to add.
Iris considered for a few moments. ‘We need to fix you up with some proper footwear right away so I’ll have a word with Matron. What say we go into town this morning? I have a few hours to spare as I’m on evening shift this week. But you’ll have to brace yourself. We had a very bad raid in May and parts of Liverpool are in a terrible state. They usually aim for the docks but I think they enjoy giving the civilians a good fright as often as they can as well.’
‘Don’t worry about me – I’m used to London, which you wouldn’t believe the terrible hammering it’s taken …’ She stopped, realising she sounded as though she was making light of Liverpool’s hardship. ‘Though I read Liverpool is a close second,’ she added quickly. ‘I suppose it’s because it’s a port.’
‘A major one,’ Iris said. ‘The docks have taken the brunt of Hitler’s planes because its position is convenient for American ships to bring us crucial supplies. Not just American but Canadian and Australian ships deliver here as well. If the Germans have their way and smash the docks to pieces we’ll have had it. Nothing will get through – food, fuel, arms – everything we depend on. It’d be a disaster.’
June