War Orphans (18 page)

Joanna frowned. It was nearly Christmas but there was no sign of her father coming home. It was going to be bleak without him. There would be no Christmas dinner, no festive decorations. Her only enjoyment would be Harry. But he needed feeding. Where else could she look for money? Where else could she get food?

Feeling terribly downhearted, she bent down to fasten her shoes. As she did so, the front edge of her coat fell to the side of her knee and something hard knocked against her leg.

Curious, her fingers traced the outline of an object trapped there. With luck it might be a penny. Even a halfpenny would do. Elation swept over her as she delved into her pocket. Whatever was trapped in the lining must have fallen through the hole. The pocket was part of the coat. Anything that fell through it would not fall onto the ground but would become trapped in the lining.

Finding the hole in the silky pocket, she pushed her fingers further down until she'd gained the hem that held the lining in place. The object moved, but her quick fingers moved with it. Eventually she gripped it and carefully, very carefully, she brought it out, up through the lining and out of her pocket.

It was indeed a penny. Hardly a huge amount but seeing it gave her an idea.

Prying her fingers into both coat pockets, she felt the hole the coin had fallen through and another hole in the other pocket.

If the penny, a large coin, had fallen through the hole in her pocket at some time, smaller coins might also have made the journey and whoever had once owned the coat never noticed.

Placing the penny to one side, she delved again into the pockets, burrowing further down into the hem of her coat. First she brought out a sixpence. This was better than she'd expected. One more search her fingers fumbled around the unmistakeable edges of a thruppenny bit. Once the money was safely stowed in the pocket of her liberty bodice, she buttoned her coat, threw a scarf around her neck, grabbed her hat and was gone. There was no way she was going to hang around and chance Elspeth taking the money off her.

Before heading for Harry, she took a detour to the row of shops at the bottom of The Vale. And then she remembered it was Sunday. The shops were closed.

Filled with dismay she stared at the blacked out frontages, wondering whether to bang on the door and purchase what she could.

Just about to do so, she happened to see Mr Lewis, the shopkeeper in the side entry tying up paper with bits of string.

‘Mr Lewis,' she said tentatively. ‘I'm sorry to bother you, but can I buy something?'

Mr Lewis turned round, his face beetroot red above his brown shopkeeper's coat. ‘Well, I don't open on a Sunday – unless you're out of food then I can make an exception.'

She immediately thought of Harry. Should she tell him the little dog would starve unless she got him some food? She decided against it. She didn't want him to work out who she was and perhaps tell her stepmother what she'd bought. If her stepmother could have Lottie destroyed, she could have Harry destroyed too, and that was something she couldn't possibly countenance.

‘Oh. I thought you might be – seeing as there's a war on. But our larder is bare. There's only a crust left and no meat or biscuits.'

She bought biscuits and asked him if she could have some bacon bones.

The shopkeeper shook his head and frowned. He knew who she was. Knew her father and had known her mother. Back when her mother was still alive she'd been a lively little thing, really pretty too, and always clean and well turned out. Since her father's marriage to ‘the Welsh Rarebit', as his wife called her in very disapproving tones, the child had gone downhill. ‘That child is being mistreated and with Tom away it's only likely to get worse.'

His wife's comments weighing heavily on his mind, he smiled and began wrapping up a few bacon bones. He also threw in the remains of a ham bone, the fat hanging white and glistening from the knuckle. A good percentage of the bones would normally go
into the stockpot, a base for one of his wife's tasty soups. But he had a soft heart and he couldn't help thinking his donation would be welcome.

‘Here,' he said, handing her the wrapped up bones plus a large bag of broken biscuits. ‘They're for you and you alone, mind. Don't you tell your stepmother I gave you things without your ration card or she'll want the same treatment. I only make exceptions for people I really like.'

Joanna was more than pleased. He'd only taken sixpence for everything, which meant she had four pence left – the penny and the thruppenny bit.

It was very cold outside, but her cheeks were pink and she felt warm all over thanks to Mr Lewis. Harry would have some very meaty-looking bacon bones to eat, plus the ham bone.

Despite the frozen ground, she broke into a run, each breath rising into the air like white feathery plumes, streaks of white against the black. The darkness was so intense it was hard to see where she was going. On top of that the ground beneath her feet was slick with frost and slippery.

There was only a little battery life left in her torch and daylight was a long time coming. She was determined to save the little she had left so she could better see Harry inside the shed.

It wouldn't have been so bad if there had been streetlights or patches of light falling from the windows of houses as there had been in peacetime. At this time of year the blackness of night lingered into morning. The world had become a more sombre place since September, the blackout more intense, more all-consuming, as winter set in.

As Joanna entered the shed Harry bounced around with excitement and happiness at seeing her.

‘See what I've got for you,' she said, getting down on her knees and laughing as he jumped up at her and licked her face with his warm, wet tongue. ‘Look!'

She held up the food she'd brought. Harry responded with the usual wagging of his stumpy tail, which made Joanna very happy. She'd expected him to be whining and shaking with hunger and cold but he seemed quite happy.

Once he was settled with the ham bone, she flashed her torch over his dishes. The water dish was not as empty as she'd expected it to be. The remains of some kind of meat clung to the sides of his food dish.

Joanna froze. Someone had fed him. She was sure of it. But who?

She looked over her shoulder, half expecting someone to leap at her from the shadows. There was no one there.

With the childish innocence of not wanting to believe anything was wrong, Joanna pushed the suspicion to the back of her mind and Harry helped her do that.

For a while they played, Joanna screwing up a piece of newspaper into a ball and throwing it for Harry to retrieve. Eventually he tired himself out. A quick drink and he climbed into his bed curling himself into a tight ball.

Sighing with satisfaction, Joanna laid her head against the table leg. She loved watching the puppy sleep, his round tummy rising and falling with each breath he took.

The everyday world fell away and Joanna felt happier than she had in days. All she needed was Harry, somebody to love and somebody to love her.

Her eyelids began to feel heavy and, despite the cold, she fell asleep, curling herself around the puppy's bed beneath the table. It wasn't the ideal situation and her coat didn't really keep out the cold, but her love for Harry and the fact that she was close to him comforted her.

Deep in sleep, she didn't hear the door open or see the elderly man with the kind eyes enter as softly as he could. He came into the shed so quietly that even Harry was not disturbed, though when he opened one eye and saw who it was, he wagged his tail and went back to sleep.

Seb Hadley eyed the thin legs and pale skin of the little girl. The shoes and socks she was wearing had seen better days and by the looks of it her coat wasn't offering much warmth.

The girl moved almost imperceptibly. He knew immediately she was shivering. The shed provided shelter but it wasn't that warm – not like his own cosy living room at home.

The girl needed a blanket. He didn't have one with him, but he was wearing his army greatcoat, a leftover from the Great War, heavy as you like and made from the very finest wool.

Oh well. You're not going to need it,
he told himself as he took it off.
You've got gardening to do.

Gently, so as not to wake her, he placed the coat over the child's sleeping form. One of the sleeves settled on Harry.

Seb smiled. They'd both be warm now.

With silent precision he retrieved the tools he wanted and went back outside. As he gazed out over his patch of allotment he had the strangest sensation that a female hand landed on his shoulder. He knew immediately that it was Grace's hand and that she approved of what he'd just done.

He smiled. ‘I knew you'd approve,' he said softly, as though she were right there next to him. He sighed deeply. ‘I suppose I'd better get on.'

Joanna opened her eyes to daylight and Harry licking her face. On cuddling him close she noticed the warmth of his body and then realised that she was very warm too.

She pushed at whatever was covering her, certain it hadn't been there when she'd fallen asleep. It was heavy and on closer inspection she realised it was a coat – a man's coat. For a moment she was filled with alarm until she reasoned that whoever it belonged to was also the person who had fed Harry. It had to be the man who owned the shed.

Carefully, she got out from beneath the coat, Harry jumping around excitedly, almost as though he knew who the coat
belonged to. Getting to her feet, Joanna made her way to the single window overlooking the allotment.

The tin oil drum used as a water butt obscured one half of the window, but through the other half she could see a man digging at the ground. So intent on seeing Harry she hadn't noticed that the weeds and dead plants had been removed, the earth turned over.

For a moment she watched as the man turned over the clods of rich, dark earth. He was quite tall, and although his hair might have been a different colour when he was younger, it was now white and streaked with yellow. His back was to her, so she couldn't see his face. Although he'd been kind to let her sleep with his coat over her to keep her warm, she was wary of strangers. Her stepmother had told her to have nothing to do with strangers – not ever.

She sucked her thumb desperately, wondering what she should do next. Should she hare out there, or should she make sure Harry had all he required and leave? With a bit of luck the man would not see her go.

The little dog had his head dipped in his bowl, lapping at the freezing water. She reminded herself that Harry had been fed so the man couldn't be a bad man.

It had been so warm beneath the khaki-coloured coat. Her own was big enough but worn on the elbows and the material wasn't half so good as the army greatcoat. Although the thought of confronting the man scared her, she needed to know for sure that he wouldn't betray Harry to either the authorities or her stepmother.

‘Stay here,' she whispered to Harry. He looked up at her with big sad eyes and whined. ‘It's for the best. I have to speak to that man out there. This is his shed. I need to ask his permission for you to stay here. I have to,' she added, her voice fading away into nothing. Without anywhere to stay Harry would be doomed.

Closing the door quickly behind her so Harry couldn't follow, she went outside. The cold was so intense it was as though she
wasn't wearing a coat. Her legs were cold too and her cheeks were blossoming to pink. Tucking her hands into her pockets and keeping to the path, she approached the bent figure cautiously.

The narrow path that ran along the edge of the allotment was of compacted earth and encrusted with a layer of frost that was almost thick enough to be mistaken for snow.

Uncertain of what to say, she stood and waited for the man to notice her. Then she coughed nervously, though only in a small way, as though she were clearing her throat.

The man leaned on his shovel and regarded her thoughtfully. Tufts of the white hair she had seen from a distance stuck out in silky strands from beneath a flat cap. His eyes were a chilling blue but she couldn't tell whether he was smiling or not because of his facial hair. His beard was very bushy and so were his white eyebrows.

‘Well, girl. What have you got to say for yourself?'

Feeling a sudden jolt of fear, Joanna stared at him wide eyed.

The man barely moved. He just returned her enquiring look with a steady one of his own.

At last he spoke. ‘Cat got your tongue?'

Joanna gulped and said the first thing that came into her mind. ‘You look like Father Christmas.'

For a moment he seemed taken aback but recovered quickly, a faint smile softening his features. ‘Is that so? Do you really think Father Christmas would be here digging in an allotment? I should think he got more important business at this time of the year than planting cabbages! Don't you?'

Joanna nodded. She wasn't quite sure how to take him and had to keep reminding herself that it was his coat that had kept her warm and him that had fed Harry.

‘So,' he said, fixing her with his starry-bright eyes. ‘How come you didn't come to feed that dog yesterday? A dog is a big responsibility, you know. It's a living creature that depends on you to keep going. Didn't you know that?'

Joanna nodded again.

His white eyebrows met above his nose in a deep frown. ‘Only donkeys keep nodding and that's because they can't speak. I take it you can. So where were you yesterday? Why weren't you here to feed the little chap?' He wagged a warning finger. ‘No lies, mind. I want the truth.'

Joanna gulped. She wasn't at all sure of the truth about donkeys, but somehow she just couldn't avoid telling him the truth. ‘Elspeth locked me in the coalhouse.'

The man's expression changed and a small frown puckered his brow. ‘Elspeth? Is she your sister?'

Joanna shook her head. ‘No. She's my stepmother.'