War Orphans (25 page)

Spring flowers were dancing in the May sunshine when a telegram arrived, two days before the date Tom Ryan was expected to arrive home.

Joanna's stepmother was thrown into a whirlwind of activity. Together they cleaned the house from top to bottom. Elspeth had purchased a new coat, two dresses and a pair of shoes for Joanna.

‘Don't want your dad thinking I've neglected you, now do I?' she said, a snarl of warning twisting the corners of her mouth. Joanna winced as Elspeth pinched her arm. ‘And don't you go telling tales. Do you hear me?'

Mutely, scared to open her mouth, Joanna shook her head.

They'd also queued until late on Friday night to buy whatever food their ration books would allow.

‘He'll probably bring a bit of something with him,' said Elspeth. ‘I've heard the army don't go short of food.'

She also warned Joanna not to say anything about Jack Smith coming to the house or the fact that they'd had roast chicken for Christmas Day lunch.

Excited her father was coming home and uncaring about anything else, Joanna readily agreed.

It wasn't often so much food was in the house and Joanna found herself salivating. Elspeth warned her not to touch anything.

‘At your peril!' she shouted, wagging her finger in front of the child's face. ‘All this is for when your father gets home. In the meantime, we'll make do. Do I make myself clear?'

Bubbling with excitement, Joanna told just about everybody in school that it was finally happening. At last her father was coming home.

Paul was full of boyish curiosity and still wanted to know whether he'd be bringing his gun with him.

‘I expect so,' Joanna said grandly, swinging her legs as she walked along so that her new coat swished against her legs. She was also wearing a new grey skirt and cardigan. Her shoes were new too and although they pinched and blistered her ankles, she would endure it all.

Her friend Mister Seb had told her that he would feed Harry his breakfast on school days. He had been the only person who knew of the puppy's existence, but now Mrs Allen also knew and gave Joanna the bones she'd used for stew, even though they were totally bereft of any meat.

There had been times when she'd wanted to tell Paul or Susan about Harry, but it seemed only right that her father should be told first.

Miss Hadley saw her beaming face and, although she knew the reason why, she wasn't going to spoil the moment.

‘You're looking very happy, Joanna. And what's this? More new clothes and shoes?'

Joanna's eyes shone with excitement. ‘My dad will be home on leave soon!'

‘That's wonderful, Joanna.'

Neither of them mentioned the fact that Sally was Seb's daughter as though it were a secret in itself.

As she watched the little girl settle happily in her seat in class, she thought about how close she had come to reporting Joanna's circumstances to the children's welfare officer. While the child's father was home Joanna would be looked after. The only thing she had to do for Joanna that day was to provide plasters to cover the blisters caused by the new shoes.

Her stepmother should have done this, she thought to herself, her jaw holding uncomfortably firm as she ministered to
Joanna's needs. She was in no doubt that the minute Joanna's father had gone back to his unit, Joanna's lot would be what it was before. She badly wanted to tell her not to disclose anything about Harry the dog, but her father had sworn her to secrecy. It was wise to see how things turned out.

‘Won't it be lovely when your father's home again? It's so different without a man in the house,' Sally said laughingly.

‘Mr Thomas visits,' Joanna blurted, then bit her lip. ‘Oh! I don't think I was supposed to tell. You won't tell Elspeth I blabbed, will you?' A worried frown creased the little girl's brow and her eyes were wide with fear.

Taken aback at the mention of the headmaster of the boys' school, Sally stared as she attempted to take in what Joanna had said. Mr Thomas had visited Joanna's home? Had she heard right?

‘Are you sure it was Mr Thomas, Joanna? The head of the boys' school? Is that the man you mean?'

Joanna's bubbling excitement abated. She chewed her bottom lip and looked upwards with doleful eyes. ‘I'm not supposed to tell.'

‘You're not lying, are you, Joanna? Liars are not tolerated in my classroom. You do know that, don't you?'

Joanna nodded. It was all she needed to do. That and her doleful expression said it all. Arnold Thomas, the man saddled with a sick wife, had finally jumped over the traces with, of all people, Elspeth Ryan.

Still reeling with the shocking news, Sally attended a meeting at breaktime along with the teachers from both the boys' and the girls' school. Presiding over the meeting was Arnold Thomas.

The meeting was about the timetable for air-raid duties and refining the process of how the children should leave the school in the event of an emergency.

‘We have been allocated a large shelter in Victoria Park. I think you all know exactly where it's located.'

Everyone said they did. The series of shelters was quite large and had been built at the bottom of Victoria Park close to the railway line beside the allotments.

Sally had made up her mind to have a word with Arnold Thomas regarding his liaison with Joanna's stepmother.

The signs had been there a while that he was lonely and in need of feminine company. She recalled the feel of his palm of his hand on her backside and gritted her teeth.

Lingering at the door she waited until everyone else was out and turned to face him.

He saw her and smiled. ‘Miss Hadley. Is there something I can do for you?'

Sally kept her expression neutral. ‘How's Miranda?'

‘Oh,' he said, casually waving his hand before shuffling his papers into a neat little pile inside a brown manila folder. ‘You know Miranda. She's got everything you don't die from.'

Though you wish she would.
Sally contained the rogue thought.

‘I did wonder seeing as I hadn't seen much of you.'

‘You know me. I never stray far from the fold,' he said in a jovial manner.

‘Everyone reaches a breaking point,' Sally said somewhat pointedly. ‘I thought you might have taken a lover.'

Something flashed into his eyes before vanishing in the depths of their natural cloudiness.

‘Goodness! Whatever made you think that?' His smile looked as though it might break his jaw. His eyes had a shuttered look, as if he had locked any thoughts that might betray him securely away.

Sally shrugged. ‘When the cat's away, the mice do play.'

He became defensive, his shoulders stiffening, his stiff smile gone. ‘Perhaps you can tell me what you mean by that.'

None of the old familiarity remained in his voice. Arnold Thomas, the mild-mannered man with the patience of a saint, had turned hostile.

‘There's a war on, Mr Thomas. A lot of husbands are away fighting, leaving their women at a loose end. I thought you might have taken up the slack with one of them.'

His pale eyes suddenly blazed like liquid mercury and a pink dot arose on each pronounced cheekbone. ‘How dare you! I want an apology right now!'

Sally clutched her folder to her chest and narrowed her eyes. ‘It's always a great joy when one of those “cats” come home. The father of a little girl in my class is coming home shortly. Her stepmother's name is Elspeth Ryan. I'm sure the father is looking forward to being enfolded in her arms and told she's been faithful through thick and thin.'

She turned on her heels then, her face red with anger, surprised that she'd been so bold as to state it as it was to the headmaster's face.

Arnold Thomas stood like a block of salt, staring after her, his pink flush undiminished. How did she know about him and Elspeth?

Elspeth had admitted she was married and that her husband was away fighting.

‘We don't see eye to eye any more,' she'd said to him.

He'd seen no evidence of a child at Elspeth's house. Though thinking back, she had once told him that she had a daughter. But there was barely any evidence of a child at the house, and in his desire he'd forgotten that she'd had one.

Overcome by the moment, he slumped onto a chair. Sweat erupted through the pores in his skin, trickling from his forehead and into his eyebrows.

There was his position to think of. The board of governors would not be best pleased. The relationship had to be terminated, yet he could not bring himself to do so.

Elspeth was so enjoyable, not just socially but in bed. It had been such a long time since he'd indulged in his marital rights that he'd thought he'd be rusty. Elspeth's actions were such that he now knew otherwise. She had reawakened his sexual feelings
to a level that he had never experienced before. Some men were addicted to drink, but in his case he was addicted to sex with Elspeth Ryan. Giving her up might be the respectable thing to do, but he no longer cared about being viewed as respectable. Come hell or high water he intended keeping her acquaintance.

Who could say that at some time in the future – perhaps quite soon – they might both be free?

Her a widow.

Him a widower.

The two different facets ran into each other and became one. They both needed to be free but, although Miranda was very ill, it could be years more before she died. A lonely future stretched like a desolate wasteland in front of him. In the meantime . . .

At the sound of the school bell ringing he looked up and realised it was time for the boys in his charge and his teaching staff to go home.

Time for him to go home too. He grimaced at the thought of it.

Home to the unwelcoming charms of a sick wife, who took delight in goading him with nasty words, thrown crockery, a swipe from a walking stick and the ringing of a bell that she knew set his nerves on edge.

‘You don't have to put up with it,' he muttered to himself.

Joanna was laughing and chattering with her friends Paul and Susan, running and jumping as they made their way up The Vale, over-excited at the prospect of her father coming home.

The day had been the brightest of her life. Nothing could daunt her spirits, not until Paul pointed out that a policeman was pushing open the garden gate of number 116.

‘What's a copper doing there then?' Paul remarked.

Joanna began to run. Paul and Susan ran after her, lingering by the garden gate as she headed for the front door and the uniformed policeman standing there with his back to her.

‘Nobody's in,' she explained. ‘Elspeth's at work.'

The policeman bent his knees so he could see her better and smiled sadly into her face. ‘Is Elspeth your sister, love?'

She shook her head. ‘My stepmother. She's at work.'

‘I see.' He jerked his chin in a nod of understanding. ‘Is there any other adult I can speak to who might know where your stepmother works?'

A terrible apprehension coiled like a snake in Joanna's stomach. Keen to know what news he brought, Joanna took him along to Mrs Allen's house.

Mrs Allen came to the door wearing a wraparound flowered apron and curlers in her hair. After taking in the look on the policeman's face, she swiped at the trickle of snuff that had come down her nose and invited him in.

‘Take a seat,' she said. ‘You too Joanna, love.'

Feeling the coldest she'd felt all day, Joanna sat down, the colour draining from her face.

Mrs Allen offered the policeman a cup of tea, which he declined. To her mind that said it all. The news was bad. Very bad.

She settled herself in one of the battered Edwardian armchairs that had once belonged to her mother. Some of the horsehair protruded from one arm and the springs were gone. Mrs Allen could not afford replacing them.

Mrs Allen clasped her hands in front of her. ‘What is it, constable? What's happened?'

The policeman looked at the little girl as he made up his mind whether to give the news he had come to give, or wait and give it to Mrs Ryan. It seemed only right to tell the wife first before the neighbour. There was also the child to consider.

When he asked, Mrs Allen gave him the address of the place where Elspeth worked which he wrote down with a stubby pencil in his little black book. ‘Right. I'll go there and tell her.'

‘Can you tell me what's happened?' pressed Mrs Allen, her arm now fully encircling Joanna's shoulders. The child's face was pale and her eyes wide with fear.

‘She'll be all right,' Mrs Allen said when she saw him look at Joanna. ‘I'll take care of her.' She peered at him quizzically. ‘We already know something bad's happened or you wouldn't be here, so you might as well tell us what it is.'

The policeman looked from the child to the old lady before taking Mrs Allen to one side.

‘I'm afraid there's been an accident on the railway. Private Ryan was one of those killed when a passenger train and a goods train collided in a tunnel. It was quick. He wouldn't have felt anything.'

Elspeth was just finishing her shift when a policeman called to tell her the bad news.

She stared hard at him for a few minutes as though attempting to take it all in. He offered her a handkerchief. She shook her head.

‘No, thank you. Did any of his stuff survive? You know. His personal effects and all that.'

Discomfited by the avarice in her eyes and the total lack of tears, the policeman shrugged. ‘I couldn't say, but I'll make enquiries and let you know.

‘So what happens to the body?'

‘That's up to you. His remains can be transported for burial back here or it can be done closer to where the accident happened.'

Elspeth lit up a cigarette and peered into the distance. ‘How much will it cost if he's buried at the scene of the accident.'