Molly Green - An Orphan in the Snow - The heart-warming saga you need to read this year

Athena Graham didn’t sound a particularly happy person herself. Maybe the boys played her up, yet somehow June couldn’t see her allowing them to get the better of her.

‘I’m sure I will be.’ June smiled. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

Miss Graham turned towards the class. ‘You may sit.’

There was a scuffling of chairs as they sat down with expressions of undisguised curiosity. June looked over at the sea of faces. All boys. They began muttering and one of them gave a low appreciative whistle when June sent them a shaky smile.

‘Enough of that, Jackson,’ Matron admonished. ‘Where are your manners?’

‘Left them in the dorm this morning, Matron.’

The other boys sniggered.

‘What did you say your name was, Miss?’ another boy asked cheekily. He had a too-thin face and dark, greasy hair which flopped into his eyes.

‘I didn’t say,’ June began, ‘but I’m Miss Lavender.’

The boy flicked his head back and the swathes settled into place for a few moments. ‘How do you do, Miss Lavender?’ he said in what he obviously thought was an upper-class accent. The boys giggled again.

‘Hello to all of you.’ June smiled. ‘I hope to get to know your names very soon. It’ll take me longer than you because there’s only one of me, but I’m sure—’

‘That’ll be all, Miss Lavender,’ Matron said, taking hold of June’s arm. ‘We must continue our tour. No doubt we’ll see you at dinner, Miss Graham.’ And with a nod she firmly escorted June out of the door.

‘Now the art studio,’ Matron said. She opened the door and June inhaled the familiar smell of paint and turpentine. It took her straight back to her home in March, where she would help Clara to make a painting for their mother. June noticed the atmosphere in the studio was far more relaxed than Miss Graham’s class, as this teacher was walking around, looking over the children’s shoulders and smiling encouragement at their work.

‘That’s coming along really well,’ she was saying to one of the girls.

‘Mrs Steen – needlework and art,’ Matron snapped out as though she was contemptuous of Mrs Steen’s particular subjects.

‘Barbara,’ the teacher said in an undertone so the pupils wouldn’t hear. She grinned as Matron flashed her a warning look, and her friendly grey eyes lit up her plain features. She took June’s hand firmly in her own plump one, and June warmed to her instantly.

‘And the third teacher we have is Miss Ayles,’ Matron said, as they left the art studio and she strode ahead into the next classroom. ‘She’s the senior teacher and has the older children. She teaches religious instruction, history and geography with particular emphasis on our glorious Empire.’

From Matron’s tone, history and geography were far more acceptable.

Miss Ayles was thin as a stick, with spectacles halfway down her nose, and an abundance of liver spots on her face and hands. Her grey hair was drawn back into a severe bun, every hair held in place at the sides by two black combs.

‘Miss Lavender is my new assistant,’ Matron said, edging June forward.

June smiled and put out her hand. Miss Ayles’s lips lifted a fraction at the corners in acknowledgement, but her dry handshake was brief and gave nothing away.

It was plain that some of the staff didn’t seem best pleased to have her there. June pressed her lips stubbornly together. She’d show them she was a hard worker who would put her heart and soul into whatever was in store for her. Her thoughts flew again to Lizzie. She was just about to summon the courage to ask if they could go up to the nursery, when Matron said:

‘We’ll put our heads in the door of the sick ward. Don’t want to go in and catch anything. Nurse Manners will be there. She’s got two of the girls in, both with tonsillitis. They’re twins – Daisy and Doris Smith – and when one gets something, so does the other. They’ve been ill for a week now.’ Matron sniffed and spread her fingers wide down her navy-blue dress as though smoothing out a crease, and June couldn’t decide if she was annoyed with the twins catching everything at the same time or didn’t have much confidence in Nurse Manners’ nursing abilities.

‘I’ve met the other nurse – Nurse Marchant. She seems very nice.’

Matron’s lip curled. ‘She’s nice enough though she’s an argumentative little madam and I won’t tolerate it. She wouldn’t get away with such behaviour if nurses weren’t so thin on the ground because of the war – which the British shouldn’t have been involved with in the first place.’

June managed to hide her astonishment at Matron’s outburst. She’d hardly been in the orphanage more than an hour or two. It made her feel uncomfortable that Matron should say such things about Iris, whom she’d taken to immediately. What a dragon. She wondered how many years Matron had been at the home and how the staff got on with her, having such threats hanging over them.

They walked down some steps at the far end of the house. Matron hesitated, then knocked and opened the door. June hovered outside, not wanting to disturb the two sick little girls.

‘It’s better to wait for me to tell you it’s all right to come in,’ a voice said in a firm tone, and a short, stocky young woman appeared, her face flushed and frowning, her arm thrust out as a barrier.

‘I’m the matron. I can come in whenever I choose.’ Matron tried to brush the nurse’s arm aside, but the younger girl’s arm was strong.

‘No, I’m sorry, you can’t. The girls are sleeping and I won’t have them disturbed. You know I’ll call you if they take a turn for the worse.’ The nurse gave June an apologetic smile. ‘I’m Kathleen Manners.’ She turned to Matron. ‘I’ll come over later with a full report on the girls when Iris takes over this evening.’

‘See that you do.’ Matron’s face was red with annoyance as she turned. The door clicked behind them.

Someone else who wasn’t going to take orders from Matron. June was pleased that Kathleen hadn’t succumbed. But she made a mental note that Matron was displeased if anyone didn’t agree with her.

‘Saucy slip of a girl,’ Matron was saying. ‘I’ll be putting in my own report.’ Her chest was heaving with frustration and her breathing was loud enough to reach June’s ears.

‘I was hoping I might see Lizzie,’ June ventured, wanting to change the subject. ‘Poor little mite. What happened to her that she can’t speak?’

‘ Refuses to speak,’ Matron said with such vehemence June took a step back in shock.

‘Oh, surely not.’

‘Surely so. It’s obvious. The child’s seeking attention. She’s got another think coming if she reckons she’s going to get it. That’s why I’ve kept her separate. The other children think she’s peculiar and then they start acting up, pretending not to hear or speak, the way she does.’

‘May we go and see her?’ June asked.

‘No. My legs won’t carry me up the all those flights more than once a day. The nursery’s on the top floor. Where you and the maids are. But you’ll meet Hilda, the nursery assistant who looks after her, soon enough. The girl eats like a horse. She’ll be first down to supper, mark my words.’

‘So Lizzie sees the other children at mealtimes?’

Matron threw her a sharp look. ‘No. I’ve just told you the child has to be kept separate. She has her meals in the nursery. Hilda’s a fast eater. She bolts hers down and then brings Lizzie hers.’

‘Do you mean Lizzie is alone while Hilda goes to have hers?’ June asked. She didn’t like to think of the scared little girl locked in a room on her own. ‘Isn’t there someone who could keep an eye on her for a short time – in case something happened?’