Molly Green - An Orphan’s Wish - The new, most heartwarming of christmas novels you will read in 2018

She’d had no lunch and her stomach rumbled. Now, the pouring rain added to her misery as she waited for the number 42 bus outside Kirkdale station. At least in the train she’d been inside. Drops of water ran under her collar and seeped into her shoes. How much worse could it get?

‘Expect bus’ll be late as usual,’ the woman in front said to her companion. Their umbrellas bobbed as they talked, their accent so strong it was difficult for Lana to catch everything.

‘’S’not their fault, Mags,’ the second lady said as she moved a little to the side to escape her friend’s umbrella spokes. ‘They’ve gorra lot on their plates what with all them holes in the road. I don’t know how they do as well as they do.’

‘It’s your sort who never get things made any better,’ the first woman retorted. ‘You see the good in everyone. It’s ones like me who complain and get changes made. Then you cop the benefit but I end up the stirrer.’

Lana gave a start. It sounded as though the two were about to go into a full-scale row. To her relief the other one chuckled. ‘That’s true. They just think what an old dragon you are and what a lovely woman I am.’

‘If only it were true.’ Mags gave her friend a little push.

So they were only poking fun. She’d have to try to understand their humour if she did end up living here. But she wouldn’t think that far ahead. No point in getting her hopes up.

‘Bingham,’ called out the conductor as the bus slowed to a halt.

Lana glanced at her watch. Already three o’clock. Nearly an hour late. Not a good impression to give.

‘Is the village school very far?’ she asked him as she alighted.

‘No, pet. Not five minutes. It’s just up the road ahead of you. Low red-brick building on the other side. You can’t miss it.’

With the trains often delayed interminably, and sometimes not running at all, Lana had decided to stay the night in a bed-and-breakfast one of her customers had recommended. Her heart gave a little skip of freedom at the thought of being in a place where she wasn’t known. She wouldn’t have to force herself to smile when someone she hadn’t seen for a while enquired, ‘How’s that gorgeous fiancé of yours?’

When she explained, the person would be embarrassed and clearly wish they’d never asked. She’d have to mumble some excuse to rush away before they saw her tears.

She braced herself now and stepped down from the bus, thanking the conductor, relieved to see the rain had eased. The school building came in sight after only a few hundred yards. A sign pointed to ‘Office’ and she hurried through an arched entrance that opened onto a haphazard garden of concrete path, flower borders and patches of vegetables, with one dejected-looking tree stuck in the middle. The path led to a door with a notice: ‘Please ring the bell and enter’.

She found herself in a hall about the size of her parents’ front room. To one side was a recess with a protruding sign: Office. A woman of indecisive age, her hair scraped back into a severe bun, sat peering through a glazed screen, looking Lana up and down before she spoke.

‘Miss Ashwin?’

Lana nodded.

‘You’re very late.’

Not the warmest welcome, Lana thought, as she shrugged off her damp raincoat, giving herself time to respond.

‘I’m really sorry,’ she said, folding her raincoat and laying it across her arm. ‘The poor driver had to make so many detours with all the damaged streets. I don’t envy them their jobs at the moment.’

‘That’s as maybe,’ the woman said with a sniff. ‘Mr Shepherd has been waiting I don’t know how long. I’d better let him know you’ve finally arrived.’

Lana looked around, longing to sit for a few moments after her long journey but there was no seat provided. They obviously didn’t want to let visitors linger too long, she thought, biting back a grimace. What a sombre place. She almost decided she wouldn’t bother seeing Mr Shepherd, but could hear her mother telling her not to be so rude. Well, she’d meet him and be quick about it, saying she realised Liverpool was just too far away, then make some excuse that her parents needed her as they hadn’t been able to find a suitable person to help in the shop. Anything to escape.

These thoughts were churning around her head when she heard someone call her name.

‘Miss Ashwin?’

She swung round to see a figure limping towards her.

‘George Shepherd.’ She held out her hand and he shook hers briefly. ‘Come this way.’

She followed him along a corridor and another short passage where he opened a door on the left and ushered her in.

‘Sit down, Miss Ashwin. Expect you’ve had a frightful journey.’

He spoke in a crisp tone like a military man and didn’t seem to expect a response to his comment. She nodded and took in a breath.

‘Damned nuisance, this bloody war,’ he said, then smiled at her reaction. ‘I do apologise, Miss Ashwin. Too used to being with chaps all day long. Not used to females in the least.’

She smiled, the tension dissipating a little. ‘Don’t mind me,’ she said, thinking he must have been a soldier injured in the war.

‘I don’t work here, God forbid,’ he said, grimacing. ‘I’m from the council – Education Department. The school is understaffed with everyone rushing to do their bit but we must keep the schools going. These nippers need a bit of continuity in their lives, poor little buggers.’ He looked across the desk and made a tutting noise. ‘Oh, sorry. Am in bad habits.’

‘There’s no need at all to apologise, Mr Shepherd, but coming here I realised Liverpool was much further from home than I’d thought. I wanted to tell you in person that I’m afraid I’ve wasted your time. I know you haven’t offered me the job as I’ve only just arrived, but I’ll be catching the train home tomorrow. I see now that I should stay a bit closer to home.’

Mr Shepherd’s skin tone changed colour. ‘You mean we’re both on a wild goose chase. Shouldn’t you have thought of that before I arranged the interview?’

‘It’s my turn to apologise,’ Lana said quietly. ‘It’s hard to know how one would feel upping sticks and leaving family behind. I can’t see myself being happy here. And if I’m not happy then the children won’t be. I’d be doing them a disservice.’

‘I believe I’d be the best judge of that.’ George Shepherd tapped his pen on the desk. His eyes, a strange mixture of brown and green, caught hers.

Lana squirmed in her chair, feeling seven years old and being told off by her teacher. She was just about to say it was best to know sooner rather than later how she felt when he came out from behind his desk and opened the door. For an instant she thought he was sending her off with no further ado, but instead he called a passing lad.

‘Young man, please go to the kitchen and ask them for a tray of tea … cake, too, if they’ve got any.’

He went back to his chair and a smile twitched on his lips. ‘Can’t send you away with nothing inside you,’ he said. ‘Have you eaten?’

‘Not since breakfast.’

‘Hmm. You’ll waste away if you carry on like that.’ He looked at her gravely. ‘While we’re waiting, tell me about yourself. Humour me. Even though you’ve turned down a job I haven’t yet offered you.’

Lana couldn’t help a small smile. He had a dry sense of humour, which she liked. She explained a little of her circumstances without mentioning Dickie but again, as though he knew she was holding something back, he barked: ‘Husband? Boyfriend?’

‘I had a fiancé,’ she said with only a faint tremor.

‘Had?’

‘His ship was torpedoed by a U-boat only a few days after leaving Liverpool. Most of them survived but not Dickie.’