A Girl Can Dream (32 page)

‘Bound to, I’d say,’ Joy said. ‘And franked at the post office so you’d know whereabouts they are.’

‘Yeah,’ Meg said, ‘if they ever got to Rugeley at all.’

And if they didn’t, Meg’s mind screamed, then where are they?

Meg didn’t expect to sleep well, and she didn’t. When she did drop off for snatched moments, her mind was filled with images of the children. She was glad when it was time to rise and pull on her uniform. The day was a cold one with a definite autumnal nip in the air, and both she and Joy were glad of their thick green jumpers, yet despite them they shivered as they crossed the yard.

It was always warmer in the byre. Normally this was Meg’s favourite time in the day and it never failed to soothe her, but that morning she viewed it as one more chore to complete before she could take the train back to Birmingham. As if the cows were aware of her distraction, they were more difficult to settle. Meg found milking more onerous than usual and she didn’t get the same volume of milk from the cows.

She expected Will to say something to her, but he didn’t. In fact, they were all uncommonly subdued, with none of the normal banter between them, because Joy was sharing her good friend’s worry. An uncomfortable silence prevailed, and Meg was glad when the milking was over and the cows returned to the field.

She was like a cat on hot bricks during breakfast, and after it she said to Will: ‘Can we go straight off to the station?’

‘You’ll be far too early.’

‘Well, you know, Dobbin doesn’t go very fast.’

Will had opened his mouth to defend Dobbin when he caught sight of Enid’s face. She was staring at him and gave a slight shake of her head, and Will knew she was saying quite clearly that if Meg wanted to go early to the station, then she should be let go. So he said nothing.

Meg turned to Joy and said, ‘Do you mind going a bit early?’ and Joy, knowing that Meg really couldn’t bear to stay at the farmhouse a moment longer than necessary, and needed to be at the station where the journey to Birmingham would begin, mutely shook her head.

‘Well, I’ll be away to get the horse and cart,’ Will said, scraping his chair on the tiled floor as he stood up. Meg stood staring out of the kitchen window till she saw Will leading Dobbin and the cart onto the cobbled yard before the barn. The packed cases were ready by the door and Will lifted them into the cart before turning to the girls. ‘When you’re ready …’

Enid was fighting tears herself, for Meg’s unhappiness had got to her and she doubted she could speak without breaking down, but in the end no words were needed, for she hugged both girls tight, and that hug expressed how she was feeling better than any words could have done. Then they climbed up beside Will, who gave a flick of the reins, and Dobbin started up the lane. Enid watched until the cart was out of sight and she turned back to deal with the breakfast dishes with a heavy heart because she just did not know what Meg would find at her journey’s end.

A lot of the journey to Birmingham that day remained a blur for Meg. She was aware they met Nicholas and travelled together on the train, and that it was Joy and Nicholas who kept the conversation going because Meg felt worried sick, certain the children’s disappearance was somehow all her fault. She remembered them all waving to her from the doorway the day she left. Now that picture seemed to mock her because she felt she had failed them by moving so far away, but when she burst out with this to Joy and Nicholas, they both said she could have done nothing else.

‘Doris wanted you out,’ Nicholas said. ‘You know that.’

‘But I could have got out,’ Meg said, ‘if I hadn’t been so prissy, and taken a job in the munitions factory. I’m sure I would have been able to find lodgings somewhere that I could afford because the wages in the munitions are very good.’

‘And the work is very dangerous,’ Joy said. ‘And you’d be no use to anyone dead or maimed.’

‘Meg, none of this matters anyway,’ Nicholas pointed out, ‘because they were evacuated.’

‘And you couldn’t have done anything to prevent whatever happened to the children in Rugeley,’ Joy pointed out. ‘Didn’t that Miss Carmichael say she didn’t know they were missing till she checked the lists of Catholic children so she could arrange to pick them up for Mass?’

‘Something could have been done then,’ Meg said.

‘If you had known,’ Nicholas said. ‘Miss Carmichael didn’t follow it up. She just assumed that they had gone back home. If I hadn’t bumped into her in Rugeley, we might not have known till you arrived home.’

‘I know,’ Meg said dolefully.

The platform at New Street Station was teeming with people. The majority were in uniform of one kind or another, and there was the trudge of many feet as the surge of people moved forward to the exit. Their voices rose and fell in a tumultuous roar as they laughed and cried and chatted and shouted. Weaving between this mass of people were porters with loaded trolleys calling on people to, ‘Mind your backs, please.’ In one corner the newspaper vendor was plying his trade in a nasal whine that penetrated the clamour. There was suddenly a clattering rumble as a train pulled into another platform, stopping with a squeal of brakes and a hiss of steam. Then there was the shriek from the funnel of another.

‘Let’s get out of here before we are deafened,’ Nicholas said.

And in the street Meg stood and stared for a minute or two. As Birmingham girls she and Joy were used to traffic, but neither had ever seen so many horse-drawn vehicles before, though there were also a great many petrol-driven cars, lorries and trucks, all jostling for space along the road and avoiding the tram tracks.

‘Isn’t that rather dangerous for the horses?’ Meg asked.

‘I suppose,’ Nicholas said. ‘Probably borne of necessity, though.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Well, petrol is hard to get. They’re rationing it now.’

‘Rationing petrol already?’

‘Yeah,’ Nicholas said. ‘And there’s talk of rationing a few other things too. Remember,’ he said, ‘until Will came for me, I had nothing to do with myself but read the papers and listen to programmes on my aunt’s wireless, so I’m pretty clued up about the war.’

‘Good,’ Meg said. ‘Glad one of us is.’

Joy left them there to get her tram, and Meg and Nicholas began to walk, passing the line of taxis without a glance – taxis were not for the likes of them. They went along Station Street and then Bristol Street. Meg was too tense to talk much as she neared her home, and Nicholas didn’t speak either because he could sense the tension running through her. When they reached Bell Barn Road he wanted her to come with him to Rosie’s, but she was anxious to see Doris, to see if she had news of the children. He hesitated for a minute, wondering if he should partly prepare her; tell her some of the concerns his aunt had told his mother about.

‘What?’ Meg said.

No, thought Nicholas, maybe it would be better to say nothing and let her see things as they are, so he said, ‘Nothing, what d’you mean?’

‘You looked as if you were going to say something.’

‘No … Aunt Rosie said to come up. She said she’d like to see you.’

‘All right,’ Meg said.

She gave a wave and walked on. Because their house was on the street, it had another door to it in the entry, and this was the one she opened now as she stepped inside. The first thing she was aware of was the stench, thick and rancid, the sour smell of squalor that hung over everything. She swallowed the nausea and went on, unease growing with every step. She noted a pile of dishes in the sink that looked as if they had been there days; there was thick dust everywhere, a filthy grate with ashes, days old, spilling from it; lino that stuck to her feet and cobwebs festooning the ceiling.

And in the middle of this filth, Doris lounged on the settee.

‘I’ve come to find out about the kids,’ Meg said.

‘What kids?’ Doris snapped. ‘They was evacuated.’

‘Yes, but they’re not there. They weren’t on the list. No one knows where they’ve disappeared to.’

‘Ain’t nowt to do with me,’ Doris said. ‘I sent them off to the school like they said and it was their concern then.’

‘Aren’t you the slightest bit bothered that three young children are missing?’ Meg asked angrily.

‘Not really. Like I said, I know nowt, so you go and shout at someone else.’

‘They took stamped postcards with them,’ Meg persisted. ‘Did you get a postcard?’

‘No I d’ain’t get a bleeding postcard,’ Doris yelled. ‘So you bugger off and leave me alone because I don’t want you here.’

With a sigh, knowing there was no point staying, Meg turned to go and had reached the entry door before Doris shrieked, ‘And don’t you go writing to your dad about this. He has enough to think about without worrying about bloody kids.’

That’s one thing Meg had no intention of doing. Fighting men didn’t need other things to worry about, especially when they couldn’t do anything about them anyway.

‘Any luck?’ Rosie asked as Meg came in the door.

Meg shook her head. ‘Claims she knows nothing.’

‘That’s what she told Robert when he went down to see her when we got Susan’s letter. As far as she was concerned, it was good riddance.’

‘And she’s not going to lift a hand to help find them. Now why doesn’t that surprise me?’

‘Maybe we should go to the police.’

‘I know, and I shouldn’t hesitate,’ Meg said. ‘Except I worry how it will affect Dad. I don’t want him worrying about things here if I can help it.’

Nicholas came in the door then, and Meg asked him to go and tell Terry about the missing children. ‘He ought to know and there’s a chance he has heard from the kids because they’d hardly write to Doris.’

‘No problem,’ Nicholas said. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘Something I don’t want to do and that is to go and see Richard Flatterly, if I can.’

‘That creep,’ Nicholas said. ‘Anyway, isn’t he living near Penkridge now?’

‘Only weekends, I think,’ Meg said. ‘I know he once used to have offices in Great Colmore Street, so I’ll try there first. It’s a long shot but he just might know which billeting officer was dealing with the children at Rugeley. Miss Carmichael didn’t, but Flatterly is on the council and there is just a chance the billeting officer might have been employed by the council as well. If I draw a blank on this, I really think we will have to go to the police.’

‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ Nicholas said.

‘I should get going if you want to see Richard Flatterly,’ Rosie warned Meg. ‘Time’s getting on and some of those offices shut early.’

When Richard Flatterly saw Meg come in the door he said to the receptionist and his secretary, ‘You two do the blackout and then you can go.’

‘Yes, Mr Flatterly,’ the two girls said, glad to be allowed to leave early.

When they had left, Flatterly led the way to his office and told Meg to have a seat opposite him on the other side of the desk. Immediately she told him why she was there. He seemed to find it immensely amusing that Meg Hallett should seek his help to find her missing siblings.

‘But you were involved with the evacuation,’ Meg said, puzzled.

Richard looked at her scornfully. ‘The administration side of it, that was all. I didn’t get involved with the actual children,’ he said.

‘But you must have known the billeting officer?’

Richard shook his head. ‘I never had any need to know, and I never clapped eyes on her that day either. She had long gone, and the children chosen and off to their foster homes. Everything had seemed to run like clockwork.’

‘Except for three children gone missing,’ Meg said hotly.

‘Look, I knew nothing about that until Kate saw your cousin in Rugeley,’ Richard said. ‘She hadn’t told me there was any sort of problem because she didn’t think there was then. If she had told me that they weren’t in the billeting list earlier, I would have thought, as she did, that they had returned home because they couldn’t be housed together. They wouldn’t be the only ones. Many of the kids didn’t want to be evacuated anyway, and would seize on the first opportunity to go back home. How old were the children, anyway?’

‘My sisters are eleven and nine and my brother is six,’ Meg said.

‘So your eldest sister should have been well able to see to the others, and Kate would have thought she had insisted on them going back home.’

‘But nobody checked. That’s what I can’t get over.’

‘Kate wrote to your stepmother.’

‘And didn’t it bother her that she didn’t reply?’

‘Apparently you had told her some rather unflattering things about your stepmother, and if she thought of it at all, she probably thought it wasn’t in her nature to reply. But she probably didn’t have time to think about it anyway, because she was run off her feet trying to meet the needs of the children and the people who took them in, and attempting to educate them at the same time.’

‘I know all this,’ Meg said impatiently. ‘But however it was managed, three children have gone missing and no one seems to know a thing about it, or care either.’

‘Well, if you were nicer to me,’ Richard said insidiously, sidling round to where Meg was sitting, ‘I could maybe see if I can find the name of that billeting officer,’ and he slid his arms around her shoulders as he spoke.

‘Get off me, you creep!’ Meg cried, throwing his arms off as she leaped to her feet.

‘The offer is there,’ Richard replied tersely. ‘I should think about it – if you care for those brats as much as you claim you do.’

He smiled mockingly, but she saw the tic beating in his temple and the flashing fire in his eyes and knew he was very angry. Her fury and frustration matched his, though, and she snapped out, ‘I came to appeal to your better nature, but I see I have wasted my time – you obviously haven’t got one. I think it’s time the police took a hand in this.’

Flatterly definitely didn’t want Meg to involve the police. Once they started sniffing around, no end of things could be uncovered and he wouldn’t want them to look at him too closely. Suddenly he grabbed Meg’s arm in a vice-like grip, so tightly that she yelped in pain as he said threateningly, ‘I hardly think we need that sort of unpleasantness.’