The Throwaway Children (23 page)

They found Sheila in the playroom and they told her where Carrabunna was. She opened the old atlas and found Australia on the far side of the world.

‘Well,’ she said, snapping the atlas closed, ‘roll on Sunday. We ain’t coming back from there.’

When they arrived at Tilbury dock, the Laurel House girls stood on the quay, labels pinned to their coats, their small suitcases at their feet, an anxious group, staring in bewilderment at the people eddying round them. Other children were standing in similar groups. One, a large group of both boys and girls, was standing round a tall man wearing some sort of uniform, listening intently as he spoke to them; another, made up of boys only, was being led up the gangplank, while yet another, a small group of girls, was lining up, ready to board. Each child wore a brown identity label, each child carried one small suitcase, and all stood around not knowing where to go or what to do.

‘Stay here,’ Miss Vanstone ordered and leaving the girls standing with Mrs Hawkins, she bustled away to speak to the man at the foot of the gangplank.

As they waited the girls stared up in awe at the ship towering above them. White-painted with an orange line sweeping its length and pockmarked with portholes, she was taller than any of the office buildings they had seen on their way through London. A tall funnel, standing proud above the upper decks, puffed smoke out into the summer sky, and the whole ship seemed too huge, too heavy, to stay afloat.

‘Are we really going on that?’ Daisy whispered to Rita.

Rita, standing beside her with Rosie clutching her hand, peered up at the towering vessel. ‘S’pose so,’ she said. ‘It’s very big.’

‘Australia must be a long way away,’ said Joan, nervously.

‘It’s the other side of the world, stupid!’ snapped Sheila, though she too was a little shaken at the size of the ship that was to take them there.

Miss Vanstone reappeared. ‘Come along, you girls,’ she commanded. ‘Follow me.’

The ten girls picked up the cases that contained their worldly possessions and straggled up the gangway, the Hawk bringing up the rear. On deck there were children everywhere, some large groups, some small; some scuffling and noisy, others standing silent and forlorn shrinking away as adults struggled past them, carrying suitcases and bags.

Miss Vanstone spoke to a crew member who directed them to a glass-fronted office, but it was nearly twenty minutes before it was their turn to be met by a harassed-looking woman in a white uniform who held a clipboard.

‘These are the girls from the EVER-Care Trust,’ said Miss Vanstone, passing over a list of names and a handful of passports. The woman consulted her clipboard and began ticking off names, checking the name against that on the label each girl wore on her coat. While she dealt with the paperwork, the little group of girls gazed round them.

‘It’s a very big ship,’ whispered Daisy. ‘Look at all those other people. Are they all coming too?’

‘Don’t know,’ replied Rita. ‘S’pose so.’ Her grip tightened on Rosie’s hand. ‘Stay close to me, Rosie,’ she ordered. ‘You might get lost.’

As long as she was beside Rita, Rosie was not afraid. She looked about her at all the hustle and bustle, and asked, ‘Are we nearly at Australia now?’ Australia to Rosie could be anywhere, the next street, the next town or a million miles away.

‘No, course not, silly,’ snapped Sheila Nevin, overhearing the question. ‘We’re going to be on this ship for weeks and weeks.’ Sheila, as the eldest girl in the group, had assumed its leadership and for the time being the others had accepted this, all hostilities laid aside as they turned to each other in their strange new situation.

Now they were on the ship, it made Rita realize the enormity of their journey. They would have to stick together, and fend for themselves and her job would be to look after Rosie.

‘Right,’ the woman in the white uniform said, ‘I’m the purser in overall charge of you children. But you have two chaperones who’ll keep an eye on you during the voyage. Miss Dauntsey and Miss Ellen Dauntsey. They’re two teachers, going to Sydney. If you have any problems they’re the first people you go to. If necessary they’ll come to me.’ She looked the little group over and said, ‘All right?’

‘And where are the Miss Dauntseys?’ asked Miss Vanstone, looking round.

‘Dealing with another group at present,’ replied the purser. ‘If you take your group into the lounge on “F” deck, they’ll come and find you there.’

Miss Vanstone and the Hawk shepherded them to the deck above. Miss Vanstone carried the suitcases belonging to Sylvia and Susan, and instructed the Hawk to take Rosie’s.

They found the lounge, a wide saloon furnished with tables, chairs and several deep sofas. The evening sun flooded in through the windows, disguising the rather tired state of the furniture.

‘Come and sit down here,’ ordered Miss Vanstone, leading them to a table. She opened her capacious handbag and pulled out a packet of sandwiches, giving one to each child. Overawed by their surroundings, they ate in silence, and were just finishing when two young ladies crossed the room towards them.

‘Good afternoon,’ said one, extending her hand to Miss Vanstone. ‘These are the EVER-Care children, am I right?’

‘You are indeed,’ said Miss Vanstone. ‘Stand up, girls, and say good afternoon to Miss Dauntsey.’

Obediently, they all rose to their feet and chanted, ‘Good afternoon, Miss Dauntsey.’

‘And this is my sister, Miss Ellen Dauntsey,’ said the first lady. ‘You may call her Miss Ellen, so that you don’t get us muddled up.’ She smiled at the forlorn-faced children, and added, ‘Cheer up, we’re off on a wonderful adventure.’

‘Well,’ said Miss Vanstone, picking up her bag, ‘we’ll leave you to it, Miss Dauntsey. Be good, children. Do as Miss Dauntsey tells you on the voyage. Remember, you carry the good name of Laurel House with you.’ And with that she walked out of the lounge and followed closely by the Hawk who had said no goodbyes, disappeared down the stairs. Ten pairs of eyes tracked them to the door, and then turned miserably back to the two Miss Dauntseys.

‘Now then,’ said Miss Ellen, speaking for the first time, ‘you know our names, so we need to know yours.’ She pointed at Rita, still holding tight to Rosie’s hand. ‘Who are you, then?’

‘Rita Stevens,’ replied Rita softly, ‘and this is my sister, Rosie.’

One by one they said their names and Miss Ellen checked the labels pinned on their fronts. When they’d finished, Miss Dauntsey said, ‘You must wear your name tags for a few days, but we’ll do our best to remember which of you is which. If we get it wrong after that, you’ll have to tell us. Now, come along everyone, let’s find your cabins.’

The cabins each had two bunks. Rita and Rosie were together, sharing with Daisy and Sylvia.

‘Get yourselves settled in,’ said Miss Ellen, ‘and I’ll come and find you later.’ Rita closed the door behind her, and the four girls looked round the cabin that was to be their home as they crossed the world.

‘We’d better have the top bunks,’ she said to Daisy. ‘Don’t want the babies to fall out.’

‘I ain’t a baby,’ protested Rosie, glaring at her.

‘Nor am I,’ said Sylvia.

‘OK,’ agreed Rita, ‘you ain’t babies, but you ain’t having the top bunks, neither.’ She opened Rosie’s small case and took out the clothes that Matron had packed for her. Included was the dress she’d worn to the wedding.

‘My party dress,’ cried Rosie in delight, grabbing at it.

‘And here’s Knitty,’ Rita said, pulling the beloved creature out of the case.

‘Knitty!’ screamed Rosie, clutching him to her as she waltzed round the cabin.

‘Careful,’ Daisy admonished her, ‘you nearly had me over.’

Rosie didn’t care, she had her beloved Knitty. Rita had asked Wetty Betty to see if she could slip him into the case once the Dragon had finished with it, and Betty, wishing she’d been included in this strange adventure, had managed it.

‘You’ve been very kind to us,’ Rita said before they left.

‘’Cos you got some spunk,’ Betty said. ‘Wish I had your spunk. You never give in to the Hawk, even after she beat you.’

‘How d’you know she beat me?’ demanded Rita.

‘’Cos she did the same to me,’ answered Betty, ‘but I give in, and now she knows she can make me do anything with the threat of doing it again.’

‘But you’re grown up,’ said Rita in surprise.

‘Not really,’ replied Betty, ‘but I will be one day, and I’ll get my own back. One day she’ll be sorry.’ She looked across at Rita. ‘You still got your picture? The one of your dad?’

Rita nodded.

‘Want me to put that into your case for you?’

‘No thanks, Betty,’ Rita said firmly. ‘I’ll look after it.’

They unpacked their few belongings into the four drawers of the chest that was the only storage space.

‘We got a basin, though,’ marvelled Daisy. ‘D’you think them taps really work?’ She turned one on and water gushed out. ‘They do!’ she cried in delight. ‘We don’t have to fetch our water no more!’

Above the basin were a shelf and a small cupboard for their washing things and beside it was a rail on which hung four towels. Daisy climbed up to one of the top bunks, and flopped down.

‘This is a bit of all right,’ she announced. ‘Never had such a soft bed.’

Rosie and Sylvia immediately bounced on theirs with cries of glee, and Rosie tucked Knitty carefully under the covers.

‘I should keep him hidden for a while,’ advised Rita. ‘Don’t know what these teachers are like yet, do we? Don’t want them to take him away.’

Rosie pushed Knitty down further under the covers, hiding his head under the pillow.

Rita climbed up on the other top bunk and carefully slipped the picture of Daddy into the pillowcase.

‘This ain’t half bad,’ she agreed, sitting up and dangling her legs over the edge. She leaned forward. ‘I can see the dock through our window.’

‘Porthole,’ corrected Daisy, leaning forward as well. ‘There’s still loads of people on the dock. How’ll they all fit on this ship?’

‘Don’t know,’ laughed Rita, ‘but they ain’t having my bed.’

‘They ain’t having my bed,’ echoed Rosie, standing on her bunk to look out.

Miss Ellen came to fetch them, and took them back up to the lounge where they’d first met her. The others were there, and a crowd of children they didn’t know, some chattering and laughing, others sitting silently, staring round with anxious eyes.

Miss Dauntsey was already there, and when Rita’s group came in she clapped her hands for silence.

‘Now then,’ she said, ‘listen, all of you.’ The noise faded away as everyone paid attention. ‘We’re going to be on this ship for a long time, so we just need a few rules.’

Here we go, thought Rita. Do this, do that.

‘Meal times are posted on the board in this room,’ began Miss Dauntsey. ‘You are not to be late for meals, understood? They will be taken in the dining room, on the next deck up. I’ll take you all up there and show you in a minute. You may go almost anywhere on the upper decks of the ship, provided you don’t get in the way of the crew. If they tell you to scoot, you scoot, OK? And remember there are other people travelling on this ship, and they don’t want to be plagued by a lot of noisy children. This room is reserved for you. Grown-ups won’t come in here, they have a lounge reserved for them upstairs. You don’t go in there. Understood?’

There was a murmur of assent and she went on, ‘We want you to enjoy the voyage, but if anyone is a nuisance, they’ll be made to stay in their cabin… which would be very boring, don’t you think?’

More murmurs of assent. ‘Good, well, I think that’s it. Off you go and explore if you want to, but supper is in half an hour in the dining room. Don’t be late.’

And so it was that they were all in the dining room, tucking into fish, chips and green beans, as the
Pride of Empire
was towed away from the quayside and nosing her way slowly out of Tilbury on the evening tide, slipped away into the river, taking with her the hopes and fears of the migrants who made up her passenger list, all headed for a new life in Australia. Adults, tired of the bleakness of post-war, war-torn Europe, following earlier pioneers to what they hoped was a new and better life; children who had no say in whether they wanted to go or not.

The morning after her visit to Laurel House, Lily Sharples went to the phone box at the end of the road, and rang the number Mrs Hawkins had given her. She was determined to get an appointment to see Miss Vanstone. The number was answered almost immediately with a sing-song ‘Vanstone Enterprises! May I help you?’

For a moment Lily was thrown. She had thought the number she’d been given would connect her straight with Miss Vanstone.

‘Oh, er…’ she began, ‘I, er, I need to speak to Miss Vanstone.’

‘Putting you through,’ carolled the operator. There was a click and a whirr and then a woman said, ‘Miss Vanstone’s office.’

‘Miss Vanstone?’ asked Lily, hesitantly.

‘No, I’m afraid Miss Vanstone isn’t available just now. This is her secretary, Miss Drake, may I help you?’

‘Maybe,’ Lily was unfamiliar with the workings of an office. ‘I need to see Miss Vanstone.’

‘I see,’ the voice on the other end said calmly, ‘and may I ask in what connection?’

‘Pardon?’

‘What did you want to see her about?’ asked Miss Drake, patiently.

‘That’s between me and her,’ replied Lily stiffly, adding, ‘It’s about EVER-Care and it’s urgent.’

‘I see,’ said the secretary again. ‘May I ask who’s calling?’

‘Mrs Lily Sharples.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Sharples,’ said Miss Drake, remembering her instructions. ‘Would you hold the line one moment, while I fetch her appointment book?’

Lily waited. She could hear noises on the other end of the phone as if someone were searching for something, then Miss Drake’s voice again. ‘Sorry to have kept you, Mrs Sharples, the diary was in the other office. Now then, let’s have a look.’ Another pause. ‘Ah yes, well, I’m afraid the first appointment I can offer you is Friday of next week, in the afternoon.’

‘But it’s urgent,’ cried Lily. ‘Can’t she see me sooner than that?’

Miss Drake was all apology. ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Sharples, but I’m afraid not. Miss Vanstone’s away on business and won’t be back until next Thursday night, and she’s instructed me to keep her diary clear on the Friday morning. I shouldn’t really be putting you in, in the afternoon, but, well, you did say it was urgent. Shall we say at Laurel House, Friday 6 August at four o’clock?’