Orphans of War

‘It’s just a label you get stuck on you. It don’t mean anything. I’ve got no mam and dad, never had, and what you never had you don’t miss,’ Greg said, which wasn’t exactly true but he wasn’t sharing that with anyone. ‘I’ve had loads of aunts and uncles, some good and some rotten…I just heard your bad news. I’m really sorry. You’re not really an orphan, though, you know.’

‘I was just trying it on for size,’ Maddy answered, hugging the the hot mug for warmth. ‘My parents aren’t ever coming back. I don’t know what to do.’

‘But you’ve got yer gran and yer auntie. You’ve got family. Orphans have no one.’

‘I don’t want to go back to Brooklyn Hall, not now.’

‘It’s a bit stuffy there but it were a good do this afternoon for the little ones, and you belong with that lot, up there. Mrs Plum is your real Auntie.’ Greg didn’t want to admit he’d had a right good nosy around and grabbed as much grub as he could.

He felt sorry for Maddy and that was why he had taught her to ride her bike and get her balance, even if she looked a bit odd with her patch and glasses, her eye flickering all over the show. She was no Shirley Temple, not like Gloria, but he quite liked her funny stare.

‘If you ever run away again, promise to take me with you,’ she begged. ‘I’m not stopping where I’m not wanted. Mummy and Daddy are drowned so I’m like you now.’

‘No you’re not and never will be. They’ll look after you up at the Brooklyn. Mrs Plum cares about you. She’s a good ’un.’

‘But I’m useless at everything and Grandma ignores me,’ Maddy sighed.

‘Come off it! You’re top of your class, not a dunce like me. I’ve missed so much schooling…’

‘You make things with your hands. Enid can dance. Gloria can sing. Everyone likes her…’

‘Gloria’s a right little show-off.’

‘You don’t like her?’

‘She’s only a kid, OK as girls go,’ he said quickly. It didn’t pay to take sides between girls. He’d learned that one early after being bashed up in the first hostel near Leeds when he’d tried to stop a fight between two girls. ‘Look, here’s Mrs Plum coming to find you. She’s been worried.’

‘I don’t want to see her,’ Maddy snapped, darting behind the tree branches, spilling her drink and leaving a trail of milky cocoa for the dog to lick up.

‘Oh, don’t be daft, it’s not her fault…She’s doing her best to help. It is Christmas,’ Greg replied, not knowing what to say now.

He looked up at the tall outline of the trunk, how it branched from the base into a V shape, outlined against the whiteness. ‘Old Winnie would like this tree,’ he said, making his fingers into a Churchill V sign. ‘A proper V for Victory Tree is this. Come and see,’ he smiled, pushing his fingers in her face. ‘See!’

Maddy came down, stood back and looked up. ‘You’re right. It is a V shape. How clever of you to give it a name. It’s our Victory Tree now. I like that but it doesn’t change anything. I’ll never ever have another Christmas again…It’s all lies, isn’t it?’

‘Oh I don’t know, I did rather well from Father Christmas. It pays to keep an open mind,’ he smiled, thinking of his smart new blazer, long trousers and proper brogue shoes, his racing car annual and some shaving tackle.

‘But you said there wasn’t any Father Christmas. So if it’s true, why pretend?’

‘Because it makes grown-ups pretend and give us presents and treats, they play games and sing songs just for a few days in the year. It’s make-believe but we get a holiday and people get boozed up. This’s been the best one I ever had,’ he argued.

‘But it’s all lies, all of it,’ Maddy insisted.

‘I think some bits are worth keeping, with this war being on and all…’

‘I don’t understand you. One minute you say one thing and the next you change your mind,’ she snapped.

‘Well, that’s one thing I did learn in the orphanage…not to believe everything other people tell you. You’ve got to think your own thoughts and look after yourself. When it’s bad I do a bunk, when it’s OK I don’t,’ he replied. He’d been let down so many times by being shoved here and there, smacked for nothing, made promises that were never kept.

‘Was it really bad?’

‘Sometimes, and other times…’

‘There you go again, not giving me straight answers.’

‘I wish I could,’ Greg smiled. ‘Here comes your auntie, plodding through the snow. It’s time you went home before we all freeze to death.’

Poor kid, he thought, as the two figures walked slowly in front of him in silence. What a horrible Christmas present. He’d long ago stopped wondering why he was put in a home. He liked to think his parents were killed together and only he survived in a car crash. The thought that someone had just dumped him there and gone off and forgotten him…When he got wed and had kids he’d make sure his children were close by his side.

Grandma was sitting in the drawing room, knitting socks on three needles. She didn’t look up when Plum and Maddy entered the room. They sat down on the sofa together opposite her.

She paused with a big sigh. ‘Well? What is it now?’

‘Maddy’s got something to tell you,’ said Aunt Plum, squeezing Maddy’s hand to give her courage to say the hard words and not cry.

‘Mummy and Daddy aren’t coming here,’ she said, waiting for Grandma to put down that blasted grey sock and ask why.

‘What’s it this time? Theatricals are always so unreliable,’ Grandma said, and carried on with her knitting

Maddy swallowed hard, trying not to be cross with her. She didn’t know the news and it was Maddy’s job to break it. Aunt Plum said she would tell herself but Maddy had insisted. It made her feel very grown up.

‘They can’t come home because they got sunk in a ship. My parents are drowned.’ Maddy felt the tears welling up but she stayed very calm as the knitting dropped from Gran’s hand.

‘Is this true, Prunella? Arthur’s dead…another of my sons is dead?’

‘And my mummy too. I know you didn’t like them but they were my mummy and daddy and I’ll never see them again.’ That’s when her tears just burst out and she couldn’t stop them.

‘Oh dear God! The ship went down? Where?’

‘The week before Christmas, Mother. We received a call at the hostel. I said nothing until after Christmas to spare you both, but Gloria Conley blurted out something to Maddy. I had to deal with it but I did mean to tell you first.’ Aunt Plum had gone very pink.

Grandma sat very upright, staring into the embers of the log fire, shaking her head.

‘Arthur…he always was musical. Heaven knows where he got it from…not me. He was always Harry’s favourite…mentioned in dispatches in the Great War. Now Arthur’s gone. I don’t understand.’ She talked as if she was very far away from them. ‘We never got to say our piece,’ she whispered to herself. She suddenly looked very old.

‘It’s all right. Daddy wouldn’t mind,’ Maddy interrupted her reverie, hoping to give her grandmother some comfort, but it only made things worse.

‘But I mind! Things were said that can’t be put right now. I was hoping to sort out my papers with him.’ She paused and stared at Maddy as if looking at her for the first time. ‘I’m so sorry, Madeleine, sorry for your loss and your disappointment. You must be feeling very shocked. Come and sit by me.’

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