Christmas Wishes (23 page)

‘Very much; as I said, I think of her as my third daughter,’ Alex said. ‘And now tell me, queen, how did you know Gillian was trying to grab your hat? Your hand went up to your head to protect it two or three seconds before Gillian reached out.’

There was a puzzled pause whilst Joy thought this one over. How
had
she known? But having had it pointed out to her, she realised that she often knew what Gillian was doing, or might presently do. Sometimes she knew, perhaps from experience, just how Gillian would react in certain situations. But there were other times – the hat-snatching episode just now, for instance – when she supposed, doubtfully, that she must have guessed.

But she knew Alex would be staring at her and waiting for an answer, so she frowned to show him she was considering his question, then answered as truthfully as she could. ‘I’m not sure, Daddy, but I think it’s a twin thing. Before the accident we often knew what the other one was thinking; sometimes we both spoke an identical sentence at identical moments, but I don’t know how it works.’ She sighed deeply. ‘Oh dear, I can’t really explain, though I’m doing my best.’

Alex grinned. Joy could not see the grin, but she could feel it in her bones; and now explain that to anyone, she told herself. But her father was speaking. ‘Yes, I remember you both coming out with the same remarks at the same time; you do it still. I wonder whether it will work when you’re miles apart, though? It’ll be interesting to see whether you get moments of knowing what Gillian’s doing, or saying, or thinking. And now I’ve a suggestion to make. I think you should stop calling me Daddy and shorten it to Dad. How do you feel about that, then?’

Joy gave a gurgle of amusement. ‘I never knew you could read minds, Dad,’ she said. ‘I’ve been going to suggest it for at least a week, but somehow I’ve never had the opportunity. I expect Gillian will jump at it; unless she’d prefer to call you Father, of course.’

They both laughed and then Joy heard her father stand up and fumble around in his coat, which he had put up on the rack as soon as they had entered the compartment. Presently she felt a rather sticky paper bag being thrust into her hand. ‘Have a humbug,’ Alex invited.

Joy took one, though not without difficulty, for she guessed that the sweets had been purchased a couple of days before and were now very sticky indeed. ‘Thank you, Dad, they’re my favourites; you
must
be a mind reader!’ she said. The two Lawrences sat back in their seats and prepared to enjoy the journey, Alex describing the scenery through which they rushed until his voice slowed and Joy realised he was falling asleep. Smiling to herself, she leaned against his shoulder and presently dozed off herself.

The journey went well and Alex hailed a cab outside Euston station, having decided, despite Gillian’s advice, that he would not tackle the underground railway system when burdened with a heavy suitcase and accompanied by a daughter waving her stick to the peril of passers-by. Joy chattered at first, then fell silent, and by the time the taxi arrived at their destination she was clinging to Alex’s hand, all her bright optimism and self-confidence gone.

Alex paid off the taxi and hefted the suitcase, then gripped his daughter’s hand firmly in his free one. Together, they approached the enormous building. ‘No steps, just very large glass doors and a wide hall; no rugs or little tables or any such obstacles, but right opposite the doors a big desk with two young women seated facing us,’ he said as he guided Joy inside. ‘Here we go! Smile, sweetheart, because the ladies are smiling at us!’

Smiling obediently, though with a fluttering heart, Joy clung to her father’s hand and as they stopped before the desk, she turned towards him. ‘Don’t leave me until I know where I am,’ she hissed. ‘Oh, Daddy, I feel like a rabbit when it sees a weasel.’

Alex gave a choke of laughter, then squeezed Joy’s hand. ‘I won’t,’ he promised, then leaned towards the desk. ‘Excuse me, ladies, this is my daughter, Joy Lawrence; she’s come to join the school. I trust we’ve come to the right place?’

Two hours later, Joy was already beginning to feel a good deal less frightened. She had been allotted a helper, a girl of her own age called Amy Freud. They would share a small bedroom and go everywhere together until Joy had learned the layout of the big building.

She and Amy, with Alex tagging rather self-consciously along, had visited the cloakrooms, the dining room, the recreation room and gymnasium, and various classrooms. And then Joy had heard her father’s breathing become agitated, recognised the rustle as he pulled up the sleeve of his jacket to examine his watch and guessed that he was afraid of missing his train.

She and Amy were hand in hand, but now she pulled her new friend to a halt and turned to face her father. ‘I’m all right now, Dad,’ she said, trying to infuse her voice with more self-confidence than she actually felt. ‘Amy and me want to do things which you’d simply find boring: counting how many paces there are between our room and the stairs, for instance. And I want to have a really good explore in the gymnasium.’ She grabbed her father’s hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘Oh, Dad, I know what you’re thinking; you’re afraid you’ll miss your perishin’ train! And you really mustn’t do that because Blue Watch is on call tonight and I’ve heard all about Murphy’s law, so if you were to miss the train Blue Watch would have a shout, sure as eggs is eggs.’

‘Blue Watch can manage perfectly well without me and they know there’s a chance that I won’t be back in time. But I don’t fancy hanging about Euston station for three or four hours, so if you’re sure you don’t mind …’

Joy began to say in rather a wobbly voice that of course she did not mind, but Amy cut in. ‘There’s a private study room on the ground floor what we use for interviews with parents or relatives. I’ll take you along there and when you’ve said your goodbyes and that you just open the door, Joy, and holler my name. I shan’t be far away and I’ll come running.’

Joy smiled; the other girl’s accent intrigued her. It was so different, not only from the Scouse accents by which she had been surrounded for the last eleven months, but from the soft Devonshire burr to which she and Gillian had become accustomed whilst living with the Dodmans. She imagined that it must be what they called a Cockney accent since she had heard echoes of it both at the station and from the cab driver. But now was no time to discuss such things. Amy opened a door and ushered Alex and Joy through it, closing it firmly behind them.

‘This is very cosy,’ Alex said approvingly. A chair scraped across the floor and he settled Joy in it, then took another himself. ‘Darling Joy, I’ve saved a little surprise for you which I hope will make parting easier. We are having a telephone installed at home …’

Joy gave a muffled shriek and abandoned her chair, casting herself rapturously into her father’s arms. ‘Oh, Daddy – Dad – you’re the most wonderful man on earth,’ she exclaimed. ‘But won’t it cost an awful lot? I promise that when I telephone home I’ll just say a few words and then slam the receiver down. Oh, Dad, I’m so lucky to have you!’

Alex laughed and Joy could visualise how his slow smile would spread across his face and how he would smooth down his thick hair with both hands as he replied. ‘I’m glad I’ve done the right thing for once, because you will be able to phone us direct, instead of having to go through Control. And we, of course, will be able to telephone the LSB from the comfort of our own parlour, which is where the telephone people are going to install the instrument. There’s a long queue of folk wanting telephones, but we’re being treated as a special case because of your being only fourteen and attending the LSB. You see, I know you won’t be able to write to us until your touch-typing is pretty good, and I know Gillian didn’t like the idea of having her letters to you read by a stranger, so a telephone was the obvious answer.’

‘I hope you’ve warned her not to chatter on and on, the way she usually does,’ Joy said severely. ‘But I’ve just thought, Dad. If I ring you on the school telephone, then it will be they who pay, won’t it? And I do believe I shall have an awful lot to tell you once I’ve been here a week or two.’

‘You will have to use the public box down the road,’ Alex said. Gently, he disengaged himself from his daughter’s tight embrace. ‘I must go, queen, or I’ll miss the through train which will get me to Liverpool a good deal faster than the other one. I’ve arranged with Miss Hibbert, who is in charge of your year, that I’ll telephone our number through as soon as we’re connected. Now, let me see you open the door and give a good yell. And when Amy arrives, I really must be on my way.’

Joy sighed but nodded, walked carefully across the room, opened the door and called her new friend, but her voice came out far more softly than she had intended. She felt her father’s hand in hers, heard him inhale and guessed that he was about to shout for Amy himself. Then he expelled his breath in a long hiss, gave her hand a squeeze and then released it. ‘Good girl; here comes your friend. Do you want me to describe her to you? She’s about your height and thin, with very dark brown hair …’

Joy had meant to leave her white stick in the bedroom, for she never carried it indoors in her own home, but Amy had laughed and reminded her that the LSB – Blinkers – was large and totally strange to her. So now Joy tucked her stick under one arm and reached up to give her father a hug and a kiss on the cheek. ‘Go and catch your train, and if you hear footsteps pattering after you you’ll have to give me a good ticking-off,’ she said rather tearfully. ‘Oh, Dad, I know I’m going to enjoy myself and learn lots, but right now I just wish I could hop into your pocket and go home with you.’

‘Well, you can’t, because you’d regret it for the rest of your life; besides, the term is only twelve weeks long and when you come home it’ll be almost Christmas,’ Alex said bracingly. ‘Goodbye, sweetheart. Be good.’

Amy had joined them, and now took Joy’s hand in a firm grip as she stood facing the glass doors through which her father had disappeared. She was striving to keep a happy smile on her face, but all of a sudden she felt abandoned and bereft. If only she hadn’t poked her head out of the window in the gale that black and terrible night! Oh, if only Gillian were here, close beside her, holding her hand and describing everything before her! She longed to break away from Amy and run after her father; run all the way to Liverpool if necessary. Standing stock still and listening intently, she heard her father’s footsteps fading and was almost startled when a voice spoke in her ear. ‘I know how you feel, Joy; we’ve all had that horrible feeling when we knows our mums and dads are leavin’ us in a strange place and goin’ back home without us. You must feel especially bad ’cos he’s real nice, your dad, real understandin’. Wish mine were like that; still, there you are, can’t have everything. My old ma’s a proper treasure; what’s yours like?’

Joy fished a hanky out of her pocket and blew her nose. ‘My mum died when I was nine,’ she said huskily. ‘She was a real treasure, too, just like yours. I suppose that’s why Daddy never married again – because Mummy was such a darling. But it was a long time ago. And once I know my way about I’ll be all right, I expect.’

‘Oh! Well, it’s sad that you lost your mother when you were so young,’ Amy said briskly. ‘But these things happen.’ She cleared her throat. ‘If you don’t mind me pokin’ me nose into your business, I’d advise you not to call your parents Mummy and Daddy; the other kids will think you’re toffee-nosed if you do. Mum and Dad is fine.’

‘Right; my dad and I had agreed that Daddy sounded babyish anyway,’ Joy said submissively. ‘Thanks for warning me, Amy.’

‘That’s all right,’ Amy said. She sighed gustily. ‘I guess your dad’s halfway back to the railway station by now, so what do you want to do till supper time?’ Joy felt the other girl squeeze her hand and was obscurely comforted. It was good to have a friend, especially one as bright and willing to help as Amy appeared to be. ‘Best to keep occupied,’ the other girl continued. ‘Tomorrer there’ll be lessons, talks from the teachers, rules to be explained, so right now we’ll do whatever you fancy.’

Joy felt the only thing she wanted to do was to be alone, to go up to the little room she and Amy would share and simply bury her head in the pillow and howl like a wolf, but she knew she could do no such thing.

‘I’d like to explore the gymnasium, if it wouldn’t bore you,’ she said, keeping her voice steady with an effort. ‘I bet when I tell my sister about it she’ll think I’m making it up. I mean, you just don’t associate people who can’t see with ropes and wall bars and beams and so on. I wish I could see them, but feeling them would be pretty good, so if we could go along there …’

‘Good idea; the gym’s a grand place and you’ll be surprised how quickly you’ll be able to use the apparatus,’ Amy said. ‘Off we go, then. Hang on to me and I’ll talk you along the corridors and into the gym.’

Alex had vowed to himself that he would not look back, and strode purposefully away from the school, but at the corner he could not resist a quick peep and immediately wished that he had resisted. Joy stood close to the glass doors, still holding the other girl’s hand but with an expression on her face which was enough to break his heart. Even at this distance he could see – or fancied he could see – her yearning and, turning away and continuing his walk to Euston station, he felt every sort of heel. What would Bridget have said if she could have seen him abandoning their child to that great, square building? But Bridget would have understood that this new life his daughter was embarking on was at her own wish and would, in the end, be greatly to her advantage. Sighing, Alex straightened his shoulders and increased his pace.

Chapter Nine

Gillian was hurrying home from the tram stop, anxious to get indoors, for it was bitterly cold and today was the last day of term for both St Hilda’s and the LSB. She knew that Mrs Clarke and Irene would be busily dressing the tree, hanging paper chains and, in the case of Mrs Clarke at least, putting the finishing touches to a welcome home cake, beautifully iced and with Joy’s name picked out in little silver balls on the top.