An Orphan’s Wish

Chapter Two

She’d left it too late by dithering. As each day passed Lana became more annoyed with herself for not taking action. It would have been a marvellous opportunity to gain experience as a headmistress, albeit temporarily. Nothing was permanent in wartime anyway, but it would have looked good on her work record. At least she now knew what she wanted to do. She’d thought she’d wanted to join the ATS, that was true, but teaching was in her blood, and as soon as her parents employed an assistant for the shop she’d start applying to other schools.

Another week passed and Lana was kept busy with deliveries and serving in the shop while her mother built up her strength and carried on doing the bookkeeping. There were times in the evening, though, when Lana just longed to go out with a friend to the pictures – anything to relieve the relentless tedium. But most of her friends had joined up if they hadn’t already been conscripted. She would have been pleased to take her mother so she could escape to a world that didn’t consist of the constant round of cooking, cleaning, washing and all the other domestic chores on top of the accounts for the shop. But her mother always shook her head, her chin quivering with fright at the thought of venturing into the outside world. Lana gave a sigh of frustration.

The only bright spot was that the nights were drawing out and it was already March. The month when spring began. When the primroses showed their yellow faces along the verges. She’d already spotted snowdrops three weeks ago when she’d gone for a walk up the lane. Her heart lifted for a few moments and then the memory of Dickie’s face blocked out everything else, and an overwhelming sadness filled every part of her body. Her love had been extinguished by some nasty little Austrian’s megalomania, and his hatred of anyone who didn’t fit his bill of a perfect blond-haired, blue-eyed German. If Hitler had those physical traits it would be slightly more understandable, but he was the very opposite of what he ranted on about; yet no high-ranking German, from the little they were told, seemed to mock it, or even question it.

Dickie had only been the second serious boyfriend in her life. She’d never told her parents or they would have been shocked but she’d lived with the first one, Keith Travers, for two and a half years. She’d been twenty-five and old enough to know better but had been totally infatuated. He was every girl’s dream – handsome, intelligent, fun, successful at his job as a property developer … she could go on listing the things that had appealed. But he’d invested in the wrong company who’d done the dirty on him and he’d lost almost all his money. He’d changed overnight, becoming morose, angry, argumentative, even lazy about his appearance … No matter how she’d tried to help him and encourage him, he’d turned her away, shouting at her that she didn’t understand what a failure he felt.

Something flickered at the corner of her mind. Wasn’t that how she was feeling right this minute? She’d accused Keith of having no backbone, but wasn’t she acting exactly the same? Giving up, instead of gritting her teeth and getting on with it. It was over a year now since that terrible day when she’d had the telegram confirming Dickie’s death and most of her friends thought it was high time she pulled herself together and got on with her life. She wasn’t the only woman who’d lost her fiancé in the war, they reminded her. She’d immediately felt guilty, as two of them had lost their husbands, leaving little children without their fathers.

She swallowed hard as her thoughts rolled back to Keith again. To when she’d finally made a decision to be responsible for her own life.

An only child, his parents doted on him and she’d simply carried on doing everything for him. But one evening when he’d flounced out and, she presumed, gone to the pub, which he did most nights, she packed her clothes and her few small valuables, and left him a brief note on his pillow. Her friend, Belinda, had mentioned a spare room in a house she shared with two others if Lana should ever need it. But Keith hadn’t accepted it was the end of their relationship. He asked her to go back and after a solid month of begging, she’d given in. It had been a disaster and six weeks later she’d left for good.

Biting her lip she flinched at the memory and her own foolishness, but one good thing had come from the failed relationship: Keith owned a car. It was the one thing he’d managed to hold on to. Although her brothers had taught her to drive in their old Austin 7, it was Keith who showed her how to change a tyre and check the oil and water, and do basic maintenance work.

When she looked back she realised she couldn’t have truly cared because she’d got over him quickly. Dickie was different. She’d known he was special straightaway – and they’d hit it off as true friends. It had been a slow lead-up to love, but when the spark had burst into flames she knew she was happier than she’d ever been in her life. Now he’d been taken from her. By the bloody Germans. She swallowed but she couldn’t stop the tears flowing.

This morning the customers were even more demanding than usual. She was tired of reminding them that there was a war on.

‘Make us a cup of tea, love,’ her father said at ten past ten. ‘I’m that thirsty I can’t wait until eleven.’

She gave him a fond look. His eyes were drooping, not masking the lines of strain around them.

‘All right, Dad. I could do with one myself.’ She nodded over to the two boxes of biscuits that had just been delivered. ‘I’ll sort them out when I come back. There might be a few broken ones that we couldn’t possibly sell to our customers.’ She grinned. ‘Not to the adults, anyway.’

Her father chuckled and carried on stacking the shelf with the dozen tins of soup. No doubt they’d all have disappeared by the end of the morning, Lana thought, and who knew when there’d be another delivery.

She picked up an envelope her mother had left for her on the kitchen table and studied the handwriting. She could hear Mum upstairs and smiled. It was changing-the-beds day and nothing would alter her routine even though Lana had told her not to do it by herself. That she’d be there in a few minutes to help. Sliding the blade of a knife underneath the flap she pulled out a typed sheet of paper and glanced at the signature at the bottom. G. Shepherd. Curious. Her eyes lifted to the beginning.

18th March 1943

Dear Miss Ashwin,

I’m writing to you to inform you the situation has changed regarding the position for a temporary headmistress. Therefore, if you are still interested I would be very pleased to arrange for you to come for an interview as soon as possible.

I look forward to hearing from you shortly.

Respectfully yours,

G. Shepherd

Lana read the letter through twice to be sure she’d understood it correctly. Reading between the lines Mr Shepherd sounded worried. It was obvious the other person hadn’t turned out as he’d hoped. She laid the sheet of paper on the table while she filled the kettle and prepared the tea tray, her head spinning. What should she do? She wasn’t ever going to pass her medical for one of the services, so that was out. There was no doubt about it – she’d loved every moment of teaching before she’d come home to give her parents a hand. It was just that joining one of the forces had seemed the only way to fight Dickie’s murderers and keep faithful to his memory.

She took her mother’s cup into the front room and read Mr Shepherd’s letter out.

‘There you are, love,’ her mother smiled. ‘I told you something would turn up. You just need patience.’ She looked at her daughter. ‘I hope you’ll write back straightaway and fix a time to see him.’

‘I think I will,’ Lana said slowly as she folded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope. ‘Yes, I will.’

Chapter Three

Five days later Lana was on the train to Liverpool.

It had been a long journey with a delay of over an hour when they were close to Liverpool. A siren had shrilled and the train had immediately stopped. Most people in the carriage carried on reading or chatting as though this was a normal daily routine, but Lana’s heart thundered hard in her chest. She flinched at the half-dozen explosions, even though they were muffled, but the train shook with the vibrations, causing her glasses to slip down her nose as she doggedly attempted to read her book.

She’d had no lunch and her stomach rumbled. Now, the pouring rain added to her misery as she waited for the number 42 bus outside Kirkdale station. At least in the train she’d been inside. Drops of water ran under her collar and seeped into her shoes. How much worse could it get?

‘Expect bus’ll be late as usual,’ the woman in front said to her companion. Their umbrellas bobbed as they talked, their accent so strong it was difficult for Lana to catch everything.

‘’S’not their fault, Mags,’ the second lady said as she moved a little to the side to escape her friend’s umbrella spokes. ‘They’ve gorra lot on their plates what with all them holes in the road. I don’t know how they do as well as they do.’

‘It’s your sort who never get things made any better,’ the first woman retorted. ‘You see the good in everyone. It’s ones like me who complain and get changes made. Then you cop the benefit but I end up the stirrer.’

Lana gave a start. It sounded as though the two were about to go into a full-scale row. To her relief the other one chuckled. ‘That’s true. They just think what an old dragon you are and what a lovely woman I am.’

‘If only it were true.’ Mags gave her friend a little push.

So they were only poking fun. She’d have to try to understand their humour if she did end up living here. But she wouldn’t think that far ahead. No point in getting her hopes up.

‘Bingham,’ called out the conductor as the bus slowed to a halt.

Lana glanced at her watch. Already three o’clock. Nearly an hour late. Not a good impression to give.

‘Is the village school very far?’ she asked him as she alighted.

‘No, pet. Not five minutes. It’s just up the road ahead of you. Low red-brick building on the other side. You can’t miss it.’

With the trains often delayed interminably, and sometimes not running at all, Lana had decided to stay the night in a bed-and-breakfast one of her customers had recommended. Her heart gave a little skip of freedom at the thought of being in a place where she wasn’t known. She wouldn’t have to force herself to smile when someone she hadn’t seen for a while enquired, ‘How’s that gorgeous fiancé of yours?’

When she explained, the person would be embarrassed and clearly wish they’d never asked. She’d have to mumble some excuse to rush away before they saw her tears.

She braced herself now and stepped down from the bus, thanking the conductor, relieved to see the rain had eased. The school building came in sight after only a few hundred yards. A sign pointed to ‘Office’ and she hurried through an arched entrance that opened onto a haphazard garden of concrete path, flower borders and patches of vegetables, with one dejected-looking tree stuck in the middle. The path led to a door with a notice: ‘Please ring the bell and enter’.

She found herself in a hall about the size of her parents’ front room. To one side was a recess with a protruding sign: Office. A woman of indecisive age, her hair scraped back into a severe bun, sat peering through a glazed screen, looking Lana up and down before she spoke.

‘Miss Ashwin?’

Lana nodded.

‘You’re very late.’

Not the warmest welcome, Lana thought, as she shrugged off her damp raincoat, giving herself time to respond.

‘I’m really sorry,’ she said, folding her raincoat and laying it across her arm. ‘The poor driver had to make so many detours with all the damaged streets. I don’t envy them their jobs at the moment.’

‘That’s as maybe,’ the woman said with a sniff. ‘Mr Shepherd has been waiting I don’t know how long. I’d better let him know you’ve finally arrived.’

Lana looked around, longing to sit for a few moments after her long journey but there was no seat provided. They obviously didn’t want to let visitors linger too long, she thought, biting back a grimace. What a sombre place. She almost decided she wouldn’t bother seeing Mr Shepherd, but could hear her mother telling her not to be so rude. Well, she’d meet him and be quick about it, saying she realised Liverpool was just too far away, then make some excuse that her parents needed her as they hadn’t been able to find a suitable person to help in the shop. Anything to escape.

These thoughts were churning around her head when she heard someone call her name.

‘Miss Ashwin?’

She swung round to see a figure limping towards her.

‘George Shepherd.’ She held out her hand and he shook hers briefly. ‘Come this way.’

She followed him along a corridor and another short passage where he opened a door on the left and ushered her in.

‘Sit down, Miss Ashwin. Expect you’ve had a frightful journey.’

He spoke in a crisp tone like a military man and didn’t seem to expect a response to his comment. She nodded and took in a breath.

‘Damned nuisance, this bloody war,’ he said, then smiled at her reaction. ‘I do apologise, Miss Ashwin. Too used to being with chaps all day long. Not used to females in the least.’

She smiled, the tension dissipating a little. ‘Don’t mind me,’ she said, thinking he must have been a soldier injured in the war.

‘I don’t work here, God forbid,’ he said, grimacing. ‘I’m from the council – Education Department. The school is understaffed with everyone rushing to do their bit but we must keep the schools going. These nippers need a bit of continuity in their lives, poor little buggers.’ He looked across the desk and made a tutting noise. ‘Oh, sorry. Am in bad habits.’

‘There’s no need at all to apologise, Mr Shepherd, but coming here I realised Liverpool was much further from home than I’d thought. I wanted to tell you in person that I’m afraid I’ve wasted your time. I know you haven’t offered me the job as I’ve only just arrived, but I’ll be catching the train home tomorrow. I see now that I should stay a bit closer to home.’

Mr Shepherd’s skin tone changed colour. ‘You mean we’re both on a wild goose chase. Shouldn’t you have thought of that before I arranged the interview?’

‘It’s my turn to apologise,’ Lana said quietly. ‘It’s hard to know how one would feel upping sticks and leaving family behind. I can’t see myself being happy here. And if I’m not happy then the children won’t be. I’d be doing them a disservice.’

‘I believe I’d be the best judge of that.’ George Shepherd tapped his pen on the desk. His eyes, a strange mixture of brown and green, caught hers.

Lana squirmed in her chair, feeling seven years old and being told off by her teacher. She was just about to say it was best to know sooner rather than later how she felt when he came out from behind his desk and opened the door. For an instant she thought he was sending her off with no further ado, but instead he called a passing lad.

‘Young man, please go to the kitchen and ask them for a tray of tea … cake, too, if they’ve got any.’

He went back to his chair and a smile twitched on his lips. ‘Can’t send you away with nothing inside you,’ he said. ‘Have you eaten?’

‘Not since breakfast.’

‘Hmm. You’ll waste away if you carry on like that.’ He looked at her gravely. ‘While we’re waiting, tell me about yourself. Humour me. Even though you’ve turned down a job I haven’t yet offered you.’

Lana couldn’t help a small smile. He had a dry sense of humour, which she liked. She explained a little of her circumstances without mentioning Dickie but again, as though he knew she was holding something back, he barked: ‘Husband? Boyfriend?’

‘I had a fiancé,’ she said with only a faint tremor.

‘Had?’

‘His ship was torpedoed by a U-boat only a few days after leaving Liverpool. Most of them survived but not Dickie.’

‘Bad luck. How long ago?’

‘Forty-one. He left on 23rd August and went down on the 28th.’ She swallowed hard, desperate not to allow her voice to waver. His mother and father had told her as much as they knew, both of them with tears pouring down their cheeks. She’d never spoken about it to anyone else, not even her own parents, except to say he’d drowned.

Mr Shepherd’s eyes widened. ‘On the Otaio?’

Lana gave a start. ‘Yes. How on earth did you know?’

‘I was also Merchant Navy. That’s how I got this gammy leg.’ He appraised her for a minute. ‘Why didn’t you join up? Help get the buggers.’ He grinned. ‘And this time I won’t apologise for swearing in front of a lady. It’s the only name that suits them.’

She gave a weak smile back. ‘I agree. I wanted to but failed the medical in the ATS.’

‘Oh? On what grounds?’

‘Flat feet,’ she mumbled. It was as though she had something to be ashamed of, she thought, crossly.

‘Sorry to hear it but of course it wouldn’t affect your teaching abilities.’

There was a knock at the door and a maid entered holding a tea tray.

‘Please thank Cook and ask her for a round of sandwiches for the lady,’ Mr Shepherd said.

‘Yes, sir.’ The girl bobbed her head and vanished.

‘You’re very kind,’ Lana murmured.

‘Not at all. I just want to know what I can do to persuade you to stay here and do the vital job of educating children.’

‘Teaching is what I love,’ Lana said cautiously. ‘It’s just that Liverpool is so far away.’

‘From your parents?’

Lara nodded.

‘Are they ill?’

‘My mother’s been very ill but she’s much better now. No, it’s not that. They own a grocer’s shop and it’s too much for them now the assistant’s joined up and my mother is having to run the house as well as do the bookkeeping.’

‘They could always sell up and come to Liverpool. Be near their daughter.’

‘They couldn’t do that. You see, my mother doesn’t even go out, so she’d never move.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She has a condition. Agoraphobia.’ She rarely told anyone this as they had either never heard of the condition or found it impossible to understand, and she was tired of hearing people say her mother should buck herself up. But she felt she owed Mr Shepherd an explanation for all his trouble.

‘She was always on the nervous side,’ she continued, feeling his gaze on her, ‘but going through the Blitz has made her far worse. She began to get nervous attacks and now she’s too frightened to catch a bus into town on her own – or even go into our village by herself.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ George Shepherd said, steepling his hands. ‘Not a nice thing to have to deal with. But she wouldn’t want that to hold you back, would she?’

‘Oh, no,’ Lana said truthfully. ‘She wants me to live my life to the full. In fact, both my parents encouraged me to apply for this job, even knowing it was near Liverpool.’

‘Well, then …’

They were interrupted again with the welcome sound of the maid bringing in a plate of sandwiches. George pushed the plate over to her.

‘Yours,’ he said. ‘And Cook’s custard tarts. You’ll feel completely different with one of those inside you.’ He chuckled. ‘Don’t talk. Just enjoy it.’

He poured her a cup of tea and she drank it down gratefully. The two triangles of egg and cucumber sandwiches slipped down easily, and Mr Shepherd was right about the cook’s custard tarts. He insisted she eat the second one as well. They were delicious.

‘Better?’ Mr Shepherd said.

‘Much. Thank you.’

‘Well, then, why don’t I show you round. It’s an interesting building and you’ve come all this way.’

She loved seeing different schools, getting a measure of how they ran, seeing if there was anything they did that would improve her own school – not that the headmaster at her last school had ever taken any notice of her suggestions.

‘I’d like that,’ she said as she rose from her chair.

‘I’ll show you a couple of the classrooms,’ he said, limping by her side. ‘This one’s Miss Booth’s mathematics class.’

Lana peered a few moments through the glazed door to see a blur of children sharing desks. An older girl suddenly caught her eye. She sat at the side of the class halfway between the children’s desks and the teacher at the front. The girl raised her head and looked through the glass. To Lana’s surprise she threw Lana a look of utter despair, then bent her head down again, scribbling rapidly in her notebook.

She was obviously extremely nervous about something. How odd. She was a pretty child, but those eyes had registered such misery for someone so young.

Just as Lana stepped back, the door opened and a young woman stood there, brown eyes warm with welcome.

‘Do come in,’ she said. ‘Are you the new headmistress? Oh, I do hope so.’ She didn’t stop for Lana to say otherwise. ‘The children are so excited to have a new headmistress. They weren’t all that fond of Mr Benton. He was terribly strict. Like some Victorian master.’ Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, dear, I shouldn’t talk like this in front of you, Mr Shepherd. You’ll get me sacked.’

‘I doubt that.’ George Shepherd smiled as he lightly touched Lana’s arm to guide her in. ‘Teachers aren’t two a penny any more, so we may be stuck with you.’ The teacher chuckled. ‘Anyway, I’ve brought Miss Ashwin to have a look round the school. And yes, I’m trying to persuade her to take the position of headmistress.’

With a loud scraping of chairs thirty-odd children scrambled to their feet. Lana noticed the older girl was the last one to stand up.

‘Children, this is Miss Ashwin, come to say hello.’

‘Good afternoon, Miss Ashwin,’ they chorused.

The older girl didn’t move her mouth.

‘Sit down, children,’ the teacher said in a raised voice. She smiled and put out her hand, saying quietly, ‘Wendy Booth. Seriously, please think about the position. We’re a friendly bunch when you get to know us, and we need someone like you desperately.’

‘I haven’t made up my mind yet,’ Lana said, lamely.

‘What have you been saying to put Miss Ashwin off?’ Wendy Booth grinned mischievously at George Shepherd.

‘On the contrary, I’m doing my best to encourage her.’

‘In that case, don’t take her next door. Mrs Parkes has had to cope with a very unruly child who’s disturbing the others. Not a good scene for Miss Ashwin to see.’

‘I’ve probably seen worse,’ Lana said fervently. ‘That sort of thing doesn’t put me off. But we’re keeping you from your class,’ she finished as she noticed the sea of faces watching them curiously.

‘Yes, I’d better get back,’ Wendy Booth agreed. ‘It’s been lovely meeting you, and I do hope you’ll join us.’

Lana smiled and turned before the teacher could discern her tears. She felt Wendy could be a friend. It had been too long since she’d had someone to confide in. To lay the past to rest. To think of the future.