An Orphan in the Snow

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.’

Chapter Seven

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 trusted her enough to leave the safety of the nursery. Her ears pricked for any sound but no one was about. The children and teachers would already be in class and Bertie and the two kitchen maids would be busy making dinner. The only person June dreaded running into was Matron but her door was firmly shut as they stole by.

June heaved open the front door and the two of them were about to slip outside when a tobacco-riven voice behind her made her jump.

‘Where might you be going with the dumb child?’

She turned. Blast! Gilbert. Why was he so interfering? June fought down a bubble of anger. Calling Lizzie a dumb child in that contemptuous tone of voice. She felt Lizzie cling even harder to her hand. Whatever Gilbert had to say, she would not be intimidated.

‘Lizzie’ – she emphasised the little girl’s name – ‘is cooped up in the nursery every day. We’re going for a walk.’

‘And who’s given you permission to take her outdoors?’ Gilbert might have been short, but his steely eyes under bushy brows were menacing.

Who did he think he was, questioning her decision on the child’s well-being?

‘I’m not sure your question requires an answer,’ she heard herself replying, and, practically dragging Lizzie, she slipped out of the door.

‘We’ll go round the side,’ June told Lizzie, ‘so no one can see us. We’re going to build a lovely snowman.’ She looked down at Lizzie, who was gazing around her as though she’d never seen the garden before. ‘Lizzie, have you ever built a snowman?’

Tears flooded Lizzie’s eyes as she nodded.

Poor little soul. She’d probably built one with her brother when they’d last had snow. June scooped up a ball of snow and then another, and pressed it down firmly. Soon Lizzie began to bring her own small balls of snow to place on the body. June glanced over her shoulder at the little girl. Already she had a pink tinge to her cheeks and her eyes had lost their dull expression.

They made a head and stuck it on the top. ‘I know he doesn’t look anything much at the moment, Lizzie,’ June said, ‘but I’ll ask Cook for a carrot for his nose and get two pieces of coal from the bunker for his eyes. I’ll have to think about his mouth. Then we need an old hat and scarf, and maybe some more bits of coal for his buttons down his coat.’ She noticed with satisfaction that Lizzie was hanging on to her every word. ‘Do you think you can help me collect all the things we need?’

Lizzie nodded.

‘Maybe when the snowman has a face and is dressed you might be able to say hello to him. What do you think?’

Lizzie’s little face immediately dropped.

‘Don’t worry, Lizzie. It doesn’t matter. But I know he’d be awfully pleased if you could say something to him.’

Lizzie looked up at her and opened her mouth. In that instant June was certain Lizzie was about to speak. Then she pressed her lips even more tightly together. But somehow June felt there had been a lot of progress made in only – she looked at her watch. Oh, no. They’d been gone for nearly three-quarters of an hour. Hilda would definitely have reported her to Matron, who would be furious.

‘And where do you think you’ve been, Miss Lavender?’ Matron, her voice enunciating every word, barricaded the door as June tried to look as though it was normal for her and Lizzie to be out in the snow together.

‘I thought Lizzie should get some fresh air – she’s so pale. And she’s helped me build a snowman. I’m so encouraged that she’s joined in with something all children love making … and she really enjoyed doing it.’ June knew she was gabbling.

Matron drew herself up and threw back her shoulders. Her head and bosom trembled with fury.

‘You will not take Lizzie out of the house ever again. She hasn’t even got a coat on. If she catches her death it will be your fault, my girl.’

‘Honestly, Matron, we’ve been working and moving around. She’s not a bit cold with her jacket and—’

‘Silence! In you go this minute. You, child, come with me. You’re off upstairs – Hilda’s waiting to take you back to the nursery.’

Lizzie broke into sobs and looked up at June who could cheerfully have throttled Matron. There wasn’t a shred of kindness in the woman – she couldn’t even bring herself to say Lizzie’s name. Matron stretched out her hand for Lizzie, who sobbed even harder and hung on to June.

‘She was so happy outside,’ June told the angry woman. ‘At least let me take her upstairs myself.’

‘Certainly not. And if I have any more nonsense like this, I shall send you packing. One more time …’ Matron swiftly ducked and grabbed Lizzie’s arm, forcing her to let go of June. The little girl screamed and Kathleen rushed into the hall.

‘What’s going on?’ The nurse looked from Matron to June, and down at Lizzie, who was crying uncontrollably. ‘Lizzie seems very upset, Matron.’

‘You can blame Miss Lavender for that, Nurse.’

June opened her mouth to say something in her defence but stopped as Kathleen shook her head in warning.

‘Let me help by taking her jacket and washing her hands ready for dinner,’ Kathleen said.

‘Where’s Hilda?’ Matron’s angry eyes swept round the empty hall.

‘She’s gone to lie down. The shock, I expect, from the bite. I’ve dabbed some TCP on it. She’ll be fine.’

Matron hesitated and June was sure she was trying to work out what to do to save face, not necessarily what was best for the child. She was obviously reluctant to let Lizzie out of her clutches but Kathleen ignored her and calmly held out her hand.

Lizzie snatched her hand away from Matron’s and took Kathleen’s, but not before she’d turned round to June and given her the smallest sweetest smile.

Throughout the rest of the day June fumed. Not for the first time did she think Matron was unsuitable for such a responsible job. It was clear Lizzie needed careful handling before she would start speaking again. If only Matron would have let her explain how happy Lizzie had been helping to make the snowman, and how disappointed she’d be if she wasn’t allowed to go out tomorrow and finish him. June drew her lips tightly together. At least Kathleen had rescued poor Lizzie. And she had seen Lizzie smile for the first time in the week June had been at the home. That was surely a good omen.

Kathleen and Iris were already in the common room when June went in that evening after supper. She’d had no time to tell them what had happened as Matron had kept her busy all day long cleaning the narrow windows in the children’s dormitories, mopping the floors, sweeping and dusting. Not that she minded doing these jobs but there were two competent cleaners who came every day from the village, and she was, after all, supposed to be Matron’s assistant. She had a feeling Matron was deliberately not letting her near the children as a kind of punishment.

June shivered as the cold air greeted her even though there was a fire burning. Mr Gilbert never lit it until five o’clock so the room hadn’t had a chance to warm up properly by the time the staff had finished supper and wanted to relax a little after a day’s work. But the two young women’s smiles of welcome more than made up for the chilly atmosphere.

‘You were brave to take Lizzie out,’ Kathleen said, when June had settled into one of the sagging armchairs and was sipping her cup of tea.

‘It was my chance of getting some fresh air into her lungs. She’s so pale. They’re all treating her like an invalid and I believe she’d do so much better if she could be with the others – hear them laughing and talking. Children can accept something unusual like Lizzie not talking if they’re left to it, but until they let her mix with them, Lizzie will take far longer to recover, I’m sure of it.’

‘Did you see the bite mark?’ Kathleen asked.

‘Yes. It wasn’t even a scratch but Hilda acted as though her hand was falling off. She’s not fit to be put in charge of a child like Lizzie – or any child, for that matter.’

‘What experience does she have with children – do we know?’ Iris said.

‘No telling, but from her actions I’d say none whatsoever,’ Kathleen said, drawing up a stool and putting her feet up. She let out a deep sigh. ‘Oh, that’s better. I’ve been on my tootsies for ten solid hours.’

‘We should ask Hilda. In an interested sort of way,’ Iris said, ‘not as though we’re threatening her at all.’

‘She’ll still be suspicious.’ June put her cup down on the small table beside her chair. ‘She’s on the lookout for a fight all the time.’

‘We need to make a plan,’ Iris said firmly. ‘She’s doing more harm than good, and June’s right – at this rate Lizzie’s going to take much longer before she improves.’

‘If she ever does,’ June cut in crossly. ‘Between Hilda and Matron the poor little kid doesn’t have a chance.’

‘We’ll think of something.’ Iris drew her brows together. She looked at her watch. ‘I’d better go down to the ward ready for the night shift.’

At least these two girls feel the same as I do, June thought, as Iris vanished. And dear Bertie was sympathetic too, the way she had Lizzie in the kitchen, keeping an eye on her in the mornings. She wasn’t alone in trying to think of some way that Lizzie could be brought into the daily life, along with the others. The three of them – four, counting Bertie – would come up with something. Lizzie would begin to speak again, June was certain. That little secret smile they’d shared gave her hope.

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