Molly Green - An Orphan in the Snow

‘What about the grandmother?’ she asked.

‘She used to come and see her once a week,’ Iris said. ‘But she’s getting old. Said she couldn’t bring up the child on her own. It was too much responsibility. And it was her son who died in the fire, and her grandson. She’s beside herself with grief. It was just too much for her. You can’t blame her.’

‘And Lizzie doesn’t even talk to her grandmother?’

‘Not a word. She stares at her as though she doesn’t even recognise her. It breaks Mrs Dixon’s heart. She hasn’t been to see her lately. I don’t think she can bear it, poor thing.’

‘Can we go and see Lizzie?’

‘I don’t see why not. C’mon, let’s go now while the kids are having their nap.’

The two girls ran up the flights of stairs and Iris took out a bunch of keys from her pocket, unlocked the door and pushed it open. Apprehensive of what she might see, June noticed Lizzie curled up in a corner like a frightened animal, clutching a ball of wool.

‘Hello, Lizzie, it’s Nurse Iris come to see you. I’ve brought Miss Lavender.’ Iris caught June’s arm and gently propelled her forward.

Lizzie curled up even smaller if that was possible, her eyes staring, her expression blank. She had three fingers in her mouth.

‘Take those fingers out, lovey, and say hello to Miss Lavender.’

‘Hello, Lizzie.’ June stepped a few inches closer. Lizzie tightened up, letting the wool fall on to the floor, her hands covering her eyes. ‘Lizzie, do you remember I came into the kitchen yesterday and said hello to you? Can you take your hands away so I can see your pretty face?’

The little girl moved her hands a fraction so June could just see part of her eyes.

‘Maybe tomorrow you’ll let me see you properly,’ June said.

‘Here – what’s going on?’

June turned at the harsh voice from the door. A girl of about 16, built like an ox, stormed in. Lizzie began to cry.

‘Hilda, this is Matron’s assistant, Miss Lavender,’ Iris explained. ‘I’m introducing her to Lizzie.’

‘You can see you’ve frightened her,’ Hilda squealed. ‘If you don’t leave this minute I’ll report you to Matron – both of you.’

Lizzie cried even louder.

‘You need to watch yourself, Hilda,’ Iris said, irritation with the girl colouring the words. ‘I may be putting in my own report – and it won’t be to Matron, either.’

‘She’s not the right person to be in charge of Lizzie,’ June said, when they were downstairs again. ‘Lizzie needs someone gentle and understanding and encouraging. I don’t think she’ll ever get that from Hilda.’

‘You’re right. She was only here a few weeks before Lizzie arrived so I don’t know her that well, but I’m not keen, I must say.’ Iris turned to look at June directly. ‘What do you think, June? Do you still think we should force Lizzie to play with the others? Have her meals with them?’

‘Maybe not right away, and I don’t think we should force her to do anything, but little by little I think we should include her in some games, and if all goes well, let her sit with us at mealtimes.’

‘I agree. She’s such a dear little poppet … must be lonely as hell. Pretty little thing too.’

‘It doesn’t really matter if she’s pretty or not,’ June said, her eye on Matron’s door. ‘She should be treated kindly and lovingly. She’s just lost both her parents and her brother. She hasn’t anything more to lose – except her voice,’ she added soberly. ‘That’s what’s so terrible. She can’t communicate with anyone.’

‘Any suggestions?’

‘Not yet, but I’m going to make it my mission to help her.’

The next two days slipped by quickly as June tried to take everything in and work through Matron’s list. Daisy and Doris came out of the sick ward but they didn’t join in with the younger children’s favourite game of hide-and-seek or practise with the skipping rope, and June noticed they left half their food. She wondered how long they’d been at Dr Barnardo’s, and the reason why they’d come. She’d ask Matron. She’d also ask Matron if she could see a list of every child’s name and date of birth, and who their parents were, if known, and how the child had come to be at Dr Barnardo’s. It was important to know everything possible about each child and Matron was bound to keep a book with those sorts of details.

She decided to waylay Matron immediately after the children went to their first class of the morning.

‘Matron, it would help me a lot if I knew the different backgrounds of the children and I wondered if I could have a look at the records—’ She broke off when she saw Matron’s frown. ‘Just to acquaint myself,’ she added hurriedly.

‘I don’t see that’s necessary at all, Miss Lavender. They’re confidential.’

‘Yes, I understand, but surely not to the people who work with the children. It’s difficult to know how to handle them when I know nothing about them. They’re all individuals with different stories and I feel I’d be able to help them far more if I knew them better.’

‘You will know them better when you’ve been here longer, I’m sure.’ Matron’s voice and body were stiff with annoyance that she was being challenged.

‘No, they don’t say much about the reasons why they’re here. Not the orphans anyway. The evacuees sometimes tell me about their mums and dads. They have their own problems of homesickness, but the orphans are the ones who I believe need more attention. And sometimes the evacuees taunt the others. Only the other day I heard Arthur say to Jack, “ I’ve got a mummy and daddy and you haven’t. I’ll go home soon and you’ve got to stay here forever.”’

‘Bates is always playing up.’ Matron pursed her lips. ‘He’s a troublemaker.’

‘Yes, he can be difficult.’ June sighed inwardly. She didn’t feel she was getting through to Matron at all. ‘But I don’t think he’s deliberately being horrible. I’m trying to show him his remarks are hurtful, but I have to tread carefully not to make him worse. If I knew more about him—’

‘Yes, yes, you’ve already told me,’ interrupted Matron pulling the chain of her watch out and looking at the time in a pointed manner. ‘Well, Miss Lavender, I’ve enjoyed our little chat, but I must get on. I believe you are down to darn their socks this afternoon, am I not correct?’

‘Yes, but—’

June’s words were lost as Matron turned on her heel and marched off, her shoes clacking on the wooden floor.

How was she going to find out about the children? A few of them had told her snatches, all of them sad stories, but several of them refused to discuss it. The boys were more secretive than the girls, and bit back their tears. She longed to take them in her arms and comfort them the way a mother would, but she daren’t. Matron had said only yesterday that displays of affection didn’t sit well at any Dr Barnardo’s home. Made the children weak, she’d said. They’d have to go out in the world as soon as they were old enough and needed to be independent. They’d thank her one day.

‘Are you coming to the dance, Junie?’ Iris asked, when the two girls were in the common room that evening after supper and the younger children were tucked up in bed. June had read them a story and was pleased to see they were all listening to her intently. When she asked who usually read them one, the answer took her by surprise.

‘No one, Miss.’

‘No one ever reads to you?’

‘No, Miss.’

‘Did you enjoy the story?’

‘Oh, yes. We’d like a story every night. Can we?’

‘Can we?’ Two children jumped up and down on their beds.