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

‘I said as much to Matron but she ignored me. Matron is always right. You’ll soon find that out – if you can put up with it.’

June knew that Iris was warning her that she might not be able to put up with it; that Iris wouldn’t be at all surprised if she left. June pressed her mouth tight, resolving that it would take a lot more than that for her to give in her notice. In her experience Lizzie needed to know she was part of the home, whether she was naughty or good, and mix with the other children. June was sure it was the only way to encourage her to speak.

‘You’ll have to help serve at that table over there,’ Iris said, pointing, ‘and I’ll take this one. Don’t know where Kathleen’s got to – she’s the other nurse.’

‘Oh, yes, I met her in the sick bay.’

‘Of course. She takes the third table … oh, here she is.’

Kathleen shot in and gave Iris a wave, smiled at June, then rushed to her place, and the dining room became a crescendo of noise again until Matron appeared and banged on the table.

‘Fold your hands together for Grace,’ she said, raising her chin, her eyes rolling back in their sockets, her hands clasped, as though she were in direct contact with God. ‘For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen.’

‘Amen,’ repeated the children.

There was a clatter of plates and cutlery as two kitchen maids brought in the steaming bowls of stew and potatoes. When June had served all sixteen boys at her table, there was another kind of noise – slurping, gulping, hiccupping – but at least they were clearing their plates. She took a few bites but the excitement of the day seemed to have rid her of her appetite.

But now she had a purpose. She was going to look after the children who lived in this huge old house. Try to make it up to Clara. Make sure she would never forget her dearest sister.

After the children had all taken turns to tell June their names and ages, she looked round for Matron, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. Not knowing what to do next, she went to Matron’s office and tapped gently on her door but there was no sound from within.

‘Are you looking for Matron, Miss Lavender?’

June turned to see Miss Ayles, the history and geography teacher, regarding her from behind her spectacles.

‘Yes. I was wondering what she’d like me to do. And if sometime this afternoon I could clean my room. It smells of damp and I don’t think it’s good to sleep in such an atmosphere.’

‘I’m not surprised. It’s been empty for quite a while. We’ve not had an assistant to Matron since the war started but now we’ve got ten more children – evacuees – it’s not been easy with the shortage of books and pencils.’ Miss Ayles peered at June. ‘So I should go and get your room done, Miss Lavender, while Matron takes her hour-and-a-half nap.’ She wrinkled her thin nose. ‘Some nap,’ she added under her breath. ‘This might be your only opportunity before bedtime.’

‘Does everyone live in?’

‘The teachers and nurses are up on the third floor, the maids on the fourth. I have my own cottage as do Cook and Matron.’ There was a note of triumph in her voice and June hid a smile. ‘Is there anything else I can answer?’

‘No, you’ve been most helpful,’ June said. ‘I think I’ll go to the kitchen and ask Mrs Bertram where I can find some cleaning things.’

Cleaning took longer than she’d thought. She went downstairs more than once to check Matron wasn’t looking for her but all was silent. The children were in class, or if they were in the younger group they were having a nap themselves. But, two hours later, June ran her eye over the room. She’d managed to straighten the wardrobe, get rid of the dead flowers and clean out the vase, and she’d washed everything down, including the windows and frames and wainscot, with soap and vinegar and bleach. It was a remarkable improvement though the room still looked sadly stripped of homely items. Somewhere she had a photograph of herself and her sisters with their mother. She delved into her travel bag, unwrapped it from its newspaper and smiled as she set it on the shelf above the fireplace. She stood back to admire it. One photograph, but it made all the difference.

A few paintings – prints of course – would brighten the room but she had no money to buy anything extra. Maybe she’d find something in a second-hand shop when she’d settled in properly and saved a bit of cash. Until then, she was satisfied the room looked infinitely cleaner and smelled infinitely fresher. After the long journey she’d surely sleep tonight.

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