Mary MacCracken - Lovey

This book recounts the essence of my experience and in that sense is a true story. However, it is not intended as a literal account and it is not to be taken as a portrayal of any living person. All names of individuals, places or institutions are fictitious.

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First published in Great Britain by Andre Deutsch Ltd, 1977

This updated edition published by HarperElement 2014

Copyright © 1976, 2014 by Mary Burnham MacCracken

Mary MacCracken asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

Cover layout design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2014

Cover photographs © Diane Kerpan/arcangel-images.com

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

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Source ISBN: 9780007555147

Ebook Edition © March 2014 ISBN: 9780007555154

Version 2016-10-24

The Lost Children

City Kid

Turnabout Children

For my remarkable father,

Clifford Wilcox Burnham, and Ann

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Also by Mary MacCracken

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue

Coming soon …

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‘Wait just a minute, Mary. I want to talk to you.’ The Director covered the phone and nodded towards the coffeepot. ‘Pour yourself a cup. I’ll be right with you.’

I hesitated, juggling the armload of books and old magazines I’d brought in. I didn’t want to stop now. This was the first day of school and the children would be arriving in a few minutes. I wanted to get down to my room, put away these last things, and make sure everything was ready.

‘Well, now, everything set?’ the Director said as she hung up.

‘I think so, except for these books and maybe a few travel posters that I’ll tack up until the kids get some paintings done.’ Our children were even more sensitive than most to the climate of their surroundings. I wanted no rush, no hurry, no helter-skelter when they first arrived. The Director understood this as well as I did. Why was she keeping me here, diddling around and chatting?

‘Uh, Mary, I wanted to tell you … there’s been a change in your class.’

‘A change? What do you mean? What’s wrong? Has something happened to one of my children?’

‘No, no. Nothing like that. It’s just that I’ve rearranged things a little.’

I was instantly on guard. Euphemisms from the Director were always a danger sign. ‘Rearranged things?’

‘Yes. Last night when I went over the class lists I decided to put Hannah Rosnic in with you and move Carolyn –’

‘Hannah Rosnic!’ I interrupted. ‘How can that work? Brian and Rufus are almost ready for regular school – Brian’s twelve; this is his last year – and even Jamie is able to sit long enough to do some reading. Carolyn will fit in beautifully, I know she will. We took her on trips with us last year. I know she’s withdrawn, and her fantasies –’

‘I’ve put Carolyn in Ellen’s class,’ the Director interrupted in her turn. ‘I realised last night that it was asking too much of Ellen to take on Hannah. Ellen’s too new. She’s right for her other three and she’ll be good with Carolyn. But Hannah will be better off with you.’

‘Listen,’ I said, ‘what about the boys? And I don’t even know Hannah – except what I heard from down the hall last year. I don’t have any rapport with her. How am I going to get anything going between her and the boys? What makes you think they’ll accept her at all?’

The Director sipped her coffee and lit a cigarette, fanning the smoke away from her eyes. She looked exactly as she always had, cheerful, dynamic, the strong sinewy cords in her neck softened by her feathery white hair. ‘I’ve thought about it. The boys will be good for her, give her a nice balance.’ She paused and smiled at me. ‘And Hannah’ll stir them up a little – give your room a little more excitement.’

‘Excitement? What do we need with excitement? We’ve all come a long way, but it’s possible that we could lose everything we’ve gained so far with Hannah in there.’

‘Anything’s possible,’ the Director said coolly. The phone rang. She picked up my untouched coffee and her half-empty cup and headed back to her desk, nodding to me and dismissing me at the same time. ‘Well, that’s set, then. Fine, I’ll send Hannah down when she arrives.’

I gathered up my books and magazines and went out into the hall. What was I going to do? All I knew about Hannah Rosnic was that she had come to our school sometime in the middle of last year and had been in Shirley’s class at the end of the hall. I’d seen her, fat, dumpy, and dirty, on the playground, and I’d heard her, screaming and howling from her classroom. But that was all, except for a few dim memories of discussions at staff meetings. And now she was going to be one of my four!

A last-minute change like this was unprecedented. Ours was a school for children with severe emotional disturbances. Each of our children was unique, with such individual problems as well as strengths that what was planned to help one child deal with anger and hurt and isolation would be useless to another. What I had prepared for Carolyn would never work for Hannah.

And yet, this was what was going to happen. Once the Director had made up her mind, she wouldn’t argue and there was no point in trying to discuss it. If she had decided to move Hannah into my classroom, Hannah would be there.

I opened the door to my room and immediately my spirits rose. It was a beautiful room, facing south, large, sunny, and bright. One of the school’s trustees had arranged for us to use this church building, rent free, while we waited for our new school to be built. This particular Sunday-school room had previously been off limits to us. It was the church’s pride and joy, full of play equipment, rugs, tables, even an easel for painting. One whole wall was open to sunlight, with five floor-to-ceiling windows. Best of all, there was a door opening on to the driveway outside. There is absolutely nothing better than a door of your own to the outside world. Compared to the cold, barren rooms I’d taught in before, this was heaven.