An Orphan’s Wish

George Shepherd took her round the rest of the school and even introduced her to Meg, the cook, who bustled about, but had a smile for her when Lana thanked her for the sandwich and custard tarts.

‘I didn’t mention the salary,’ George Shepherd said when they returned to the office. ‘Four pounds a week plus accommodation in a two-bedroomed cottage in the grounds with Janice Parkes, the history teacher Miss Booth mentioned.’

It was more than she’d expected. It seemed that a headmistress was generously rewarded for the added responsibility. She hesitated, not knowing how to answer.

‘And you’d be running the show,’ George Shepherd cut into her thoughts slyly, ‘making sure you were one happy family, kids included. I think you’d make a marvellous success of it.’

‘As I explained, I’ve never held the position of headmistress.’

‘That’s not a problem,’ Mr Shepherd said immediately. ‘But we did want someone with more than a couple of years’ teaching experience, and you’ve had three times that.’

Lana was silent. Mr Shepherd was waiting for her to answer. She began to feel uncomfortable.

‘Where do the children come from?’ she asked, more for something to say.

‘Mostly Bingham, but some from the neighbouring village, which is even smaller. One twelve-year-old, Priscilla Morgan, lives at Bingham Hall – that’s the Dr Barnardo’s orphanage, half a mile away – but she attends school here. I’d like to talk to you about her in particular. She desperately needs help. Mr Benton was not the kind of person she could talk to. She’s an orphan but won’t believe it. It’s had a devastating effect on her studies as she’s been removed from the girls’ grammar school in Liverpool where she’d been doing very well up until then.’ He took his glasses off and polished them with a soft cloth before pushing them back on his nose. ‘Didn’t you say you taught eleven- to thirteen-year-olds?’

Lana nodded.

Mr Shepherd was watching her closely. She was sure he was talking about the girl who had given her such a look of hopelessness.

‘She’s got wonderful potential,’ Mr Shepherd continued. ‘She’s a difficult child – not naughty, really – it’s just that she doesn’t trust anyone any more. I think you’d be able to help her. She deserves it.’ He leaned back in his chair, his eyes unwavering. ‘So what do you say, Miss Ashwin?’

Chapter Four

The return journey on the train was even more fraught than the one going to Liverpool. It stopped at every possible unnamed town, and sometimes in between for no apparent reason. No sirens had gone off and the guard hadn’t explained the reason for the hold-ups. He probably didn’t know himself. Lana’s frustration was fuelled by her thoughts, which were spinning out of control. The children needed a headmistress in place of this Mr Benton. Deep down, she knew she was capable of doing the job, though it would be a challenge – a big step up. She wished she could have met Janice Parkes who she’d be sharing the cottage with. That was important. She wouldn’t be able to stand anyone who was morose, or worse, didn’t stop talking. She couldn’t help a wry smile. Mrs Parkes was more than likely a perfectly nice person and she would be worrying herself sick as to who was about to step into what she’d probably considered to be her cottage.

She wondered what Dickie would say if he could see her now. How she missed him. Her eyes stung with unshed tears as she tried to block out the recurring nightmare of the torpedoes that struck his ship, leaving him to drown or be blown up – she’d never know for sure. Even so, it felt too much to bear. Such a wasted life. And all the others, of course. Later she’d learned there were many survivors, and that had made her even more upset. Why couldn’t Dickie have survived?

For the hundredth time she wondered what his last terrified thoughts had been. She gulped. She mustn’t break down in front of the other people in the carriage.

‘Promise me you won’t join up.’ She could hear his voice at their last parting. ‘I couldn’t bear to think of you in any kind of danger. No matter what happens to me, I want to think of you teaching children. That’s where your heart is. And I love you for it.’ He’d looked at her and grinned. ‘Besides, with that red hair of yours and a quick temper to match, I can’t see you toeing the line or taking orders.’ When she’d opened her mouth to protest he’d kissed her lips to hush her. ‘I probably know you better than you know yourself. The kids need someone original like you to give them hope in this crazy world. They are the future now.’

But my heart’s no longer in it, she wanted to scream at him as she sat on the carriage seat squashed between two women in the ATS. Three airmen were standing close by and smoking. Her eyes began to water. That rotten stinking Hitler and his friends caused you to die and I’m going to do everything in my power to help pay them back, so help me God.

The people in the carriage were starting to throw her curious looks. She turned her face away and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.

When she finally arrived home her mother bustled into the kitchen to heat up her supper. Lana followed her, watching as her mother put the plate over a saucepan of boiling water and a lid over the top.

‘There … that won’t take more than a few minutes to heat through,’ she said, looking round and smiling. ‘Go and keep Dad company. We’ve had ours … and we’re dying to hear about it.’

‘Your mother’s been on tenterhooks all day, wondering how you were getting on,’ her father said.

‘Well, he’s offered me the position,’ Lana said, as her mother put a plate of macaroni cheese in front of her. ‘More money – four pounds a week and all found. Sharing a cottage with another teacher. I didn’t meet her but I met one – the mathematics teacher. She was awfully nice.’

‘What about the man who interviewed you?’ her father said.

‘Mr Shepherd? He was nice too. He doesn’t work there – he’s from the council – but he interviews prospective staff.’

‘Have you decided?’ her mother said, smiling encouragingly.

‘Not really.’

‘What did you tell him?’

‘I said I’d think about it and let him know either way by telephone by the end of the week.’

Her father nodded. ‘Very wise, dear. It’s a big decision. But if you say you’ll take it, your mother and I are right behind you. The change of scenery would do you the world of good and you’d do a marvellous job. Those children would flourish. But only you know what would suit you best.’

‘Thank you both.’ Lana gave them a relieved smile. They were the dearest parents in the world and she wanted them to be proud of her. She shrugged. She didn’t know what she wanted, but she couldn’t bear to be in limbo for much longer.

It was the afternoon. She’d been watching her father attend to several customers who were plainly upset with their meagre rations. The egg delivery that was promised definitely for today hadn’t come in, and one lady had grabbed an orange from the half-dozen in the basket clearly marked ‘For Children Only’, saying she wanted to give it to her daughter who had just had a baby. Dad had explained the oranges weren’t for babies but for children who could peel their own fruit. The lady lost her temper and said it wasn’t fair and she was sick of queuing for what little was left when she finally got to the top of the queue …

And then someone opened the shop door making the bell jangle. A man walked in. He was the same height and build … same chestnut hair … same narrow face. For a fleeting moment, in the dim electric light, she thought Dickie had come back to her. Her heart jumped and she had to put her hands on the edge of the counter to steady herself. But this man didn’t have Dickie’s heart-melting smile. As her pulse slowed, the man gave her a brief nod and put his list on the counter.

But it was too late. That initial reaction jogged her memory of when she’d first met Dickie. She’d come home from teaching for the summer holidays and had just brought her father and Marjorie a cup of tea. She saw the appreciative smile as the man looked at her, then lowered his eyes to her hands, giving a slight nod. It was the summer before war was declared.

‘He came in every day for a week,’ her father told her, smiling. ‘Poor chap. You should see the look of disappointment on his face when he sees you’re not there. He’s been in just now and asked me to give you this note.’

Lana laughed. ‘It’s like something out of a Jane Austen novel,’ she said as she picked up the letter opener her father always had handy in a jam jar on one of the shelves behind her.

Dear Lana, (it’s what your father calls you so I hope you don’t mind)

I keep hoping to see you when I go in the shop, but I’ve now run out of things to buy!

So I prepared this note in case the same thing happened today – and it did. You weren’t anywhere in sight.

I was wondering if you fancy going out somewhere where we can talk. I would like to get to know you better and hope you feel the same. If so, we can go to a little restaurant in York where I know the owner. The food is very good.

What about this Saturday? Say, 7 p.m.?

Do please say you’ll come.

Dickie Knight – maybe your knight in shining armour!

She’d laughed at that and taken a chance, though she’d been wary. She knew nothing about him but her father vouched for him saying he’d been a regular customer for the last three months and was always polite and well spoken. As if that made him a good person. Lana gave a wry smile. But her father prided himself on being a good judge of character.

Six weeks later Dickie told her he had fallen in love with her. Then the following week Hitler invaded Poland, and three days later Britain declared war on Germany. Dickie joined the Merchant Navy the following day.

He loved the sea – she knew that. It was her only major concern. She’d have to be prepared for long absences. But in a way it suited her independent spirit. It was always romantic when he came home on shore leave – as though they were meeting for the first time.

It had taken a year before he’d mentioned marriage.

‘I’ve decided when this blasted war ends I want to settle on shore. I’ve already seen enough sea to last me the rest of my life. And enough terrible things.’

He’d always refused to give her any details.

‘You don’t want to know,’ he’d said, tenderly smoothing the hair away from her forehead and kissing it. ‘But I’ve realised I want to be with you always. Will you marry me, darling Lana? I promise I’ll be a good husband.’

‘You’d damned well better be,’ she laughed. ‘And the answer is yes, I’ll marry you. But only when the war is over.’

‘Why wait? We’re not a couple of kids. I’m thirty-two and you’re twenty-nine.’

‘Don’t remind me,’ she’d said, chuckling. ‘All right, then, we’ll marry the next time you have at least three days’ leave. I’m determined to have a honeymoon, even if it’s only two nights.’

Feeling the tears well at the memory she rushed from the shop, leaving her father to serve the man who’d reminded her so much of Dickie. She had to get away. Dickie was right. She’d be far more use teaching children.

Lana could almost see in her mind’s eye Dickie’s triumphant grin when she telephoned Mr Shepherd to say she’d decided to take the position as temporary headmistress.

‘When can you start?’ he asked immediately.

She thought quickly. It was 29th March. ‘What about the beginning of May? Easter is late this year so I could come after that.’

‘What about the first of April?’ Mr Shepherd didn’t pause.

Lana grinned to herself. ‘And risk being an April Fool?’

This time Mr Shepherd clearly hesitated. Then his voice came over the line. ‘The second, then. Would that be possible? I can’t tell you how desperate we are, and we think you’ll be the perfect choice.’

‘You’re not giving me much notice,’ Lana said, reluctantly. But what notice did she really need? Mrs Brooke, a young widow, had started that morning in the shop and appeared quick to learn and was delightful with the customers. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘The second of April it is.’

His sigh of relief blew down the telephone wire, making her smile. ‘Good. I’ll get the paperwork ready for you to sign when you’re here.’ She could picture him now, relieved the headmistress vacancy was resolved. ‘It will be a three-month probation period to make sure we’re happy on both sides. I’m sure we will be. The salary will be five guineas a week, all found, with most Saturdays and every Sunday off. One week’s holiday pay a year.’

Lana hesitated. She’d have to say something.

‘Five guineas a week sounds wonderful, but you told me at the interview it was four pounds.’

‘My fault. I was looking at the teachers’ salary. You’ll be the headmistress but I appreciate you telling me.’ He paused. ‘Does that sound fair?’

‘Very.’ Strangely she felt a huge relief as though an inner part of her was settled.

‘Any further questions?’

‘Do any of the children board?’

‘No. It’s strictly a day school. But with this war we know that could change at any minute. We have a couple of large upper rooms that could easily be turned into dormitories, should the need arise.’

She could sense that Mr Shepherd wasn’t about to make any idle chat. He’d got the replacement and simply wanted to get on with matters. That suited her very well.

‘Thank you very much, Mr Shepherd,’ Lana finished. ‘You’ve been most kind.’

‘We will look forward to seeing you in four days’ time, then.’

‘Yes, four days’ time,’ she repeated.

Maybe things were finally falling into place.

Chapter Five

April 1943

Her body bent in an ungainly position, Lana struggled with her suitcase up the short drive to the school. The case was so heavy she’d had to keep changing hands. Most of the weight was in books. A few for herself, a couple of teaching books and a good dictionary, just in case the school didn’t have a decent one.

She rang the bell and stepped in the hall as she had the first time, but George Shepherd was nowhere in sight. Neither was the woman with the tight bun behind the glazed screen. Instead, a tallish woman with no-nonsense dark brown hair tied back strode towards her and stuck out her hand.

‘You must be Lana Ashwin. Janice Parkes. How do you do?’ The woman’s voice was as clipped as her manner.

Lana put her hand into the woman’s larger one, inwardly satisfied to note she was that bit taller than the teacher.

‘Very pleased to meet you.’

‘I believe you’ll be sharing my cottage,’ Janice Parkes said.

Did she detect a cool note in the teacher’s voice? Maybe the woman was just tired. Lana would have to give her the benefit of the doubt. She put on her brightest smile.

‘Yes, so Mr Shepherd said. I do hope you won’t mind too much.’

‘Too bad if I do, apparently,’ Janice Parkes said tartly.

So she hadn’t imagined things. The history teacher was definitely resentful. Why hadn’t she insisted on meeting the woman she’d be sharing the cottage with before she’d agreed to make the move? It was too late now, and she’d have to make the best of it. She decided to ignore Janice Parkes’s last remark.

‘Would it be possible for me to go over to the cottage and unpack my case?’ she asked.

Janice Parkes glared at the case as though it were a child who was misbehaving, then looked at her watch.

‘You’d better come with me this minute, as I have a class in ten minutes.’

She turned on her heel and marched out of the entrance door. Lana followed closely and cursed under her breath to think she had been so naïve as to assume the teacher she’d be sharing with would be pleasant. Janice Parkes hurried along a path at the side of the building and round the back where a pair of plain brick semi-detached cottages stood. The teacher went up the path of the nearest one and turned a key in the door. She pushed it open, pocketed the key, and turned to Lana.

‘Just pull the door to when you leave.’ And with that she stalked off.

Lana was glad she had. She needed time to compose herself. To think what she’d done. If Janice had given her the same warm welcome that the nice mathematics teacher Wendy Booth had, she knew she would have felt completely different. Why did it have to be Janice with whom she had to live in such proximity?

Lana put her case down and stepped back a few feet to take in the outside before entering. It was a plain exterior, which she felt would be vastly improved by cleaning the murky sash windows and repainting the orange front door that clashed horribly with the red brickwork. It could be a sweet cottage but had the air of one that had been neglected. Her gaze fell on the adjoining one. It was in complete contrast with its crystal-clear windows and green door, the colour of ferns. Lana’s eyes stung with tears. The cottage was exactly like the one she and Dickie had dreamed of. She’d suggested renting a flat when they’d first started to talk about where they’d like to live because it was cheaper, but Dickie had insisted on a little house with a garden.

‘All that time seeing nothing but sea,’ he’d said. ‘So when I’m home I must be able to step out onto grass and see trees and flowers.’

She’d happily agreed even though she knew little about gardening. Her father loved pottering about in his vegetable plot as a way of relaxing after standing so many hours in the shop. Lana’s mother preferred roses and shrubs. But since the war started the flowers had had to make way for more vegetables.

The cottage next door’s garden, with its recently painted white picket fence, was neat as ninepence, with an area dug over presumably ready for planting, whereas Janice Parkes’s garden was nothing but a mass of choking weeds and unruly ivy climbing the wall and doing its best to work into the roof.

After stepping into the dark cramped hallway Lana pushed open a door … and gasped. Presumably it was the living room though it was hard to tell. There wasn’t one inch of floor space or any other space. Every possible surface that could hold something was piled high. A sofa indicated someone had slept on it recently, by the way there were two pillows on the floor beside it, and a pile of blankets. A dirty cup was turned over on its side. The one other chair in the room was overflowing with clothes and shoes, which surely should have been in a bedroom. Is this how the woman lived? She’d given the appearance of a neat, clean, conservative teacher but her home said something quite different.

Lana put her case down and came back to the small hall. She strode through to the dining room and gazed round. This was the same. What should have been a dining room table was loaded with books and newspapers and a dirty wine glass. The three dining chairs were piled with more papers. A modest pine dresser, which should have been a striking piece of furniture, was practically obliterated by the crockery and dishes and even a couple of saucepans, and the smell from several overflowing ashtrays dotted around the room caused her to wrinkle her nose in disgust.

How could people live like this?

Not only would Janice resent being told to tidy up her things, but she would also take issue with the fact that the request was coming not from a teacher, but from the new headmistress.

Pulling a face, Lana stepped through an arch to the kitchen. At first appearance, it wasn’t quite so bad. There was a stack of dirty dishes in the sink and another pile that looked clean on the wooden draining board. Any work surface was home to items that didn’t belong in a kitchen, such as a pair of binoculars and a book: Birds in your Garden, but the small kitchen table covered with a pale blue cloth actually had space for two people to sit, and the kitchen chairs were empty of belongings.

Even if she decided not to take up the position, she’d have to spend at least the night here so she had a chance to talk to Mr Shepherd and explain her reasons. Grimacing, she hauled her case up the gently curved stairway to the landing.

One door at either side. She opened the left-hand one. Janice’s. The same untidy heap. Clothes all over the bed and chair, dressing table choked with so much rubbish you couldn’t possibly see your reflection in the mirror, Lana thought, with a curl of her lip. She shut the door quickly and opened the door on the right. It was tidy although the bed wasn’t made up, but there was a stack of sheets and pillowcases and towels on the chair. She looked in the wardrobe where there were half a dozen wooden coat hangers mournfully swinging on the rail when she pulled open the doors. No dressing table at all, though there was a sink with a decent mirror over. The room was smaller than Janice’s but she didn’t care. At that moment, she doubted she’d be staying more than a night.

There was another door at the far end of the landing and she opened it to find a bathroom with Janice’s things tossed all over the place, though upon inspection the toilet and sink and bath were all reasonably clean. But it was the general feel of the place. An atmosphere that Lana wasn’t used to at home.

She set to and made up the bed, worrying about the waste of clean linen if she didn’t take up the position. Hurrying over to the schoolhouse, her stomach rumbling at every step, she glanced at her watch. Goodness – ten past three. She’d had nothing to eat since her porridge that morning. Maybe the cook would give her something to tide her over until supper.

‘Here you are, lass.’ Meg put the tea and toasted currant bun in front of Lana. ‘You’ll feel better for something inside you. Why didn’t you say you’d had nowt?’

‘I’ve only just realised, Cook,’ Lana said.

‘Oh, just call me Meg. It’s nicer.’

Meg was a short dumpy lady, somewhere in her fifties, Lana guessed, although her cheeks were smooth, the blue eyes clear and bright, as she stood over her like a hen guarding her chicks. ‘Do eat up. As it’s your first evening I’ll leave the two of you some supper.’ She paused. ‘Janice is not one to cook so I doubt she’s got anything prepared for you.’

‘No, I don’t.’ Janice’s frame filled the doorway, a mocking smile on her lips. ‘I was relying on you, Cook.’

‘Your luck’s in then,’ Meg said briskly, going to the oven and removing a large dish. ‘Shepherd’s pie.’ She placed it on the kitchen table, assessing it with a critical eye. ‘You can easily heat it through. And there’s plenty for second helpings for both of you.’

‘Thank you, Meg.’ Lana was aware of Janice watching her closely.

‘We call her “Cook”.’ Janice Parkes’s tone was knife sharp.

‘I told Lana to call me Meg,’ Cook said, folding her arms and not taking her gaze from Janice.

‘Fine, if that’s what you want,’ Janice Parkes said. ‘I’ll see you later.’ She nodded to Lana and vanished.

‘She’ll come a cropper one day,’ Meg said after her disappearing back. ‘Shame. She used to be quite a nice woman.’ The cook sighed. ‘Oh, well, better get back to work. You stay right there, Miss Ashwin, and finish your tea.’

‘Lana, please, if I’m still allowed to call you Meg after Janice Parkes’s glare.’ Lana grinned.

‘She’s her own worst enemy,’ Meg said, her back to Lana as she reached up to pull a large enamel bowl off the shelf.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Well, when she first came she was as nice as pie. But since—’ Meg stopped, and pressed her lips together. ‘No, I shouldn’t say anything. Let her tell you herself if she wants to. But it’s changed her and she’s often snippy and her manner doesn’t have a good effect on the children, even though her heart’s in the right place.’

Lana was silent, digesting the information. Something awful must have happened to Janice Parkes for her to change so radically. But why should she put up with someone who was permanently angry? It was making her feel uncomfortable.