An Orphan’s Wish

Chapter Six

‘The children will be going home soon,’ Meg said, as she glanced up at the kitchen clock.

‘May I ask you something?’ Lana said.

‘Of course, lass. It won’t be the first question you’ll want answering.’ Meg sat on a seat opposite. She gave Lana an encouraging smile.

‘I was wondering about the older child in Miss Booth’s class,’ Lana said. ‘I noticed her when I came for the interview. She was sitting away from the other children. Mr Shepherd said she needed help.’

She waited tentatively for Meg to answer.

‘That’s Priscilla, poor love,’ Meg said, crossing herself. ‘One minute she was a happy girl with two loving parents, and next breath her mother and father were walking back from the cinema in the blackout and a car with no headlights, of course, ploughed into them. They were killed outright.’

‘Oh, how dreadful. Poor Priscilla. Where was she when it happened?’

‘The children were rehearsing a play at her school,’ Meg said. ‘Priscilla was in it. Leading light, I believe. Her dad was going to fetch her after the rehearsal. He never turned up, so she refuses to think they died. They were both mangled, apparently …’ Meg drew in a shaky breath. ‘There’s never been a proper service. It’s all so sad.’

Lana shuddered. ‘How long ago was it?’

‘Must be two or three months. She’s now living at Bingham Hall – the orphanage. From what I hear, she’s most unhappy. But then who wouldn’t be, becoming an orphan overnight? But you mustn’t use that word to her or she goes barmy. I feel so sorry for her.’ Meg gathered the dirty cups and plates. ‘The trouble is, the shock seems to have affected her brain. She’s a bright child, really.’ Meg took the dishes to the sink. She turned round to Lana and wiped her hands on her apron. ‘The police had to break the news to her about her parents but she doesn’t believe them. She thinks if she is very, very good they’ll be restored to her.’

‘Oh, what a heart-breaking story,’ Lana said, tears springing to her eyes as she pictured the child trying to take in such terrible news from strangers.

‘It was a shame Mr Benton hadn’t joined up before it happened,’ Meg went on. ‘He was a strict headmaster and was not the best person to help Priscilla in those first dreadful weeks. She needed love and kindness and understanding – which is where you’ll be able to help, I’m sure.’

There was simply no possibility for Lana to tell this nice cook that nothing was definite. Not after seeing the despair on Priscilla’s face and Meg telling her the child’s background.

‘Changing the subject, what did you think of the cottage?’ Meg asked.

‘A mess,’ Lana answered without hesitation. ‘And that’s being kind.’

Meg chuckled. ‘Yes, Janice is not the most house-proud woman.’

‘It was so bad I almost decided there and then I couldn’t stay,’ Lana said, smiling. ‘But I’m looking for a challenge, so I might reconsider.’

‘Now you’re talking,’ Meg said, putting the shepherd’s pie into a basket. She set it on the table in front of Lana. ‘Well, this evening will give you the chance to get to know Janice. Her bark’s often worse than her bite.’

Lana walked back to the cottage, keeping the basket steady, all the time thinking about Priscilla and Janice. She realised she hadn’t thought about her own anger over Dickie’s death all afternoon. Maybe this was just what she needed. To stop thinking about herself and be aware that other people were going through misery of their own. And poor Priscilla was still only a child – so much for a young girl to bear. Was it meant to be that Lana had come to the school to help her?

She didn’t believe in fate so that was nonsense. And anyway, she had to face Janice first of all. She’d soon know if Janice was going to thaw out or not if she didn’t respond positively to Meg’s delicious-smelling pie.

Feeling a little silly, Lana knocked on the door, then tried the handle. It swung open. She could hear scuffling in the kitchen.

‘It’s me,’ she called, but there was no response. A smell of cabbage wafted through. She gave a wry smile and went into the kitchen. Janice had set the table for supper.

‘Oh, you’re back,’ Janice said, glancing up, then lifting the lid of a saucepan. ‘Just dump the dish on the table. I’ve made some cabbage to go with it,’ she added unnecessarily.

‘I’m hungry just smelling everything.’ Lana set the dish on a tablemat. ‘I meant to bring a sandwich for the train but forgot, and breakfast seems a long time ago – apart from Meg’s toasted bun, that is.’ She smiled but there was no response from Janice who was frowning as she tried a shred of cabbage.

‘I think it’s done,’ she said, turning off the gas, ‘so we may as well eat early.’

Janice was very quiet during the meal, not inviting conversation. Lana could hear herself swallow. It unnerved her. How on earth could she even contemplate sharing a cottage with such a woman? And yet … Meg had said she didn’t used to be so morose. Something must have happened, but how could she broach any kind of personal question when she’d only just arrived at the school? Well, there was one question she could ask.

‘Janice, will you tell me the truth?’

Janice looked up, her eyes wide. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Are you all right about sharing the cottage with me?’

‘Not really, if you must know, but I don’t have any say in it.’

‘Well, at least you’ve been honest,’ Lana said. This is going to be even more difficult than I thought. ‘Any particular reason?’

‘As you can see, I like to spread my things around. And I don’t like being nagged about it.’

‘Sounds like you’ve shared the cottage with someone else and it didn’t work out.’

‘It was a disaster,’ came the swift reply. ‘And I don’t want to repeat it.’

‘Was it another teacher?’

‘Yes. And the teacher happened to be my husband.’

Lana put her knife and fork neatly together and waited for her to continue.

‘Not unusual in normal circumstances,’ Janice said, her lip curling, ‘but unbeknown to me, he was carrying on with someone else – one of the school cleaners. Can you believe it?’ She threw Lana a fierce look.

Lana’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, my goodness. When was this?’

‘Two Christmases ago. I threw him out. He’d have to have joined up anyway, so it was no real hardship. And I’ve been quite happy on my own, thank you very much. My divorce should be through any day now.’

‘I admit that what happened to you was pretty awful,’ Lana said, rising from the table and taking the plates over to the sink to wash. ‘But you’ll meet someone else one day. Until then, you mustn’t allow yourself to be bitter or it will ruin your life.’

Isn’t that what Mum and Dad and my friends keep telling me? And do I take any notice?

‘How dare you talk to me about bitter!’ Janice sounded so raw and angry that Lana immediately returned to her seat at the table. ‘How could I expect you, or anyone, to understand?’ Janice continued through gritted teeth. ‘He was living a lie.’ Her voice rose. ‘It’d been going on nearly a year – right under my nose.’ She paused, and Lana saw the dark eyes flash with fury. ‘So just when I’m enjoying a bit of peace and trying to come to terms with a divorce, you turn up, and I’m told to welcome someone I don’t know – never set eyes on. I’m used to living on my own … having things the way I want.’ She shot up from her chair. ‘And as far as meeting anyone else, you can forget it. I’ve had it up to here with men.’ She drew a finger across her throat. ‘And I don’t intend making that mistake again.’

Lana washed the dishes on her own, and then excused herself, saying she was tired from the journey. It was a relief to read her book, and then settle in for an early night. It was quite true. She was exhausted, physically and mentally. Bingham school was certainly giving her plenty to think about.

Chapter Seven

Lana awoke early. Where was she? Peeling flowered wallpaper surrounded her. And the cheap furniture with bubbling grain wasn’t hers. Light was filtering through from somewhere behind her head and what seemed only a few feet away she could hear loud snoring. And then she remembered. She was in one of the bedrooms in the cottage in the grounds of Bingham school. And the snorer across the landing was Janice.

She jerked upright and swung her long legs out of bed. Her watch showed half past five. She could easily have another hour but she was going to be first into the bathroom to beat Janice.

By the time Lana had washed and dressed and discovered some porridge oats, she heard footsteps above, pacing up and down. Perhaps Janice was desperately trying to work out how she was going to accept sharing. Lana struck a match and lit the gas ring, then stirred the thickening mixture with a battered wooden spoon. When it was ready she popped the lid on and called up the stairs.

‘Janice. I’ve made some porridge.’

Silence. After a few seconds a voice answered, ‘Don’t eat the stuff.’ Janice’s dark head appeared. ‘I don’t have anything to eat until dinnertime.’

‘Well, at least have a cup of tea.’ Lana bit back her irritation.

‘All right. Be down in a minute.’

Lana had finished her porridge by the time Janice appeared. She did at least sit down and drink her tea.

‘I wanted to ask something,’ Lana said.

‘Long as it’s not personal,’ Janice answered immediately.

‘No, it’s not. It’s about Priscilla. Do you teach her?’

‘Yes. History and geography, but it’s hard going,’ Janice said, gulping the rest of her tea.

‘In what way?’

‘She can’t concentrate.’

‘I’m not surprised when she’s lost her parents so suddenly.’

‘I think the best way is to ignore the fact,’ Janice said, without a scrap of emotion. Lana’s eyes went wide. ‘Oh, I know that sounds harsh,’ Janice went on hurriedly, ‘but I think the more she’s reminded by people feeling sorry for her, the longer she’ll take to get over it.’

Lana didn’t agree at all, but she could see it wasn’t worth arguing with the woman.

‘I understand she’s now living at Dr Barnardo’s.’

‘That’s right,’ Janice said. ‘She used to be very good at most subjects at her grammar school, but now she doesn’t bother to finish her homework – sometimes doesn’t do any at all – and won’t take part when we ask questions. But give it time.’ Janice looked directly at Lana and gave one of her mocking smiles. ‘As you told me yesterday – time is the great healer.’

Lana flushed. ‘I didn’t actually use those words.’

‘Maybe not, but the sentiment’s the same.’

Lana bit her lip. No, she couldn’t live with Janice, hearing her chipping away with bitterness day after day. Couldn’t she see she wasn’t the only one who’d suffered in this bloody awful war? The woman hadn’t asked her one thing about herself or why she’d moved from York to Liverpool. Janice obviously wasn’t at all interested in anyone except Janice. Janice, the hard-done-by; Janice who couldn’t see how well off she was, living in a sweet little cottage – well, it would be if she’d clean and tidy it up now and again – and having one of the most rewarding jobs in the world. Well, she couldn’t stop here for the sake of one child and be at the mercy of Janice Parkes.

‘Anyway, you’ll have your house back to yourself in a couple of hours,’ Lana said.

‘What do you mean?’

She had Janice’s full attention now.

‘I’m not going to stay here.’

‘What?’

Lana met Janice’s dark eyes, wide now with curiosity. ‘I’m not going to take up the position of headmistress.’

‘Why ever not? You’ve presumably got the experience.’

‘But not the desire,’ Lana said. ‘I haven’t felt comfortable right from the start. Even on my interview, I wasn’t made welcome by the woman in the office.’

‘Mrs Danvers?’ Janice raised an eyebrow.

‘Is that her real name?’

‘No, it’s Dayton. But we call her Danvers. Mr Benton was a pain in the neck at the best of times, but he couldn’t do anything wrong in Mrs Dayton’s eyes – she doted on him. Just like Mrs Danvers with that spoilt brat, Rebecca.’ Janice curled her lip. ‘Did you see that film?’

Lana nodded.

‘I can’t believe you took any notice of a secretary,’ Janice droned on. ‘She couldn’t have changed your mind.’

Best not to say anything, Lana decided.

‘You don’t mean me?’ Janice practically thumped herself in the chest. ‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ She shot to her feet. ‘Next thing you’ll be telling me is that you can’t live in the cottage because it’s a bit untidy.’

‘A bit?’ Lana exclaimed, thoroughly annoyed. ‘I can’t move two steps before I’m tripping over all your rubbish. This would be my home too, like it or not, so it’s best I go now than drag out the misery.’ She frowned. ‘You know, I could probably accept the state of the place and even help get it shipshape, but I’m not prepared to share a house with such a bitter woman.’ She met Janice’s neutral expression with her own glare. ‘Funnily enough, Janice, I’ve got my own problems – not that you’d be interested.’ She stuck out her hand. ‘So we’ll call it a day, shall we?’

‘Fine by me,’ Janice said, ignoring the hand, and making for the door. ‘I’m sure Mrs Danvers will order you a taxi.’ She turned to face Lana before leaving, two bright spots of colour appearing high on her cheeks. ‘At least I’m not a quitter. At least I’m still here trying to help the children and come to terms with my own rotten stinking existence. So good luck to you.’

With that, Janice marched out.

Raising her eyes to the ceiling, Lana went upstairs. Her suitcase was only half unpacked. If she was honest, she was disappointed in herself for not giving it a chance, but Janice was impossible, and the cottage was not only overflowing with Janice’s clutter but it was also dingy to the point of being downright dirty. It would never have worked. She flung her book on the top of her clothes, pulled the lid down firmly to shut the two catches, and looked round to make sure she hadn’t left anything. Breathing a sigh of relief she walked down the stairs and out of the door.

Back at the school, quiet now the pupils were in class, she glimpsed ‘Mrs Danvers’ behind the glass screen in the office, clattering away on her typewriter. Lana set down her suitcase and was just about to tap on the window when she recognised Priscilla rushing through the entrance, a look of determination on her face.

‘I need to speak to Mrs Dayton.’ Priscilla panted as she practically pushed in front of Lana.

Lana nodded, pleased the woman hadn’t spotted her. It might be interesting to stay and watch how the secretary dealt with whatever was on the young girl’s mind.

Priscilla rapped on the screen and Lana saw there was blood on her hands. She was about to step forward and ask her what had happened when Mrs Danvers – Lana couldn’t think of her by any other name since Janice had named her so – appeared at the other side and lifted the hatch.

‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ Priscilla said, her breath coming in gasps, ‘but there was a cat. It’d been hit by a car and I had to go and fetch the vet.’

‘You always find some excuse or another,’ Mrs Danvers said in a cross tone. ‘The other children manage to get here on time.’

‘They live in the village,’ the girl protested. ‘I come further … and I would’ve been here on time if it hadn’t been for the cat.’

Mrs Danvers pursed her lips that had turned white round the edges. ‘You disrupt the class every morning with your late arrival. We’re having too many complaints about you. I’m going to have to speak to—’

‘To me?’ Lana gently put Priscilla aside as she bent through the opening and put on her professional smile. ‘Miss Ashwin … the new headmistress.’

Mrs Danvers’ eyes widened and Lana saw her neck redden with annoyance. ‘Er, yes, I suppose so.’

‘Well, there’s no need to worry any further. I’ll have a word with her.’ Lana turned to Priscilla. ‘Can you show me an empty room?’

Priscilla’s grey eyes gleamed. She nodded.

‘But first you need to wash your hands.’

Priscilla led her along a corridor to the end where there was a gym. Lana looked at the climbing rope, remembering how she’d fallen once as a child and broken her ankle. There was a ‘horse’ in the middle of the room and a pole ready for netball practice at one side. Metal chairs were lined up against one wall.

‘No one will be here until after break,’ Priscilla said, as they each took a chair.

‘Good.’ Lana gave the girl an encouraging smile. ‘Now tell me what’s going on. You seem to have a problem getting to school on time.’

Priscilla reached for one of her long blonde pigtails and brought it to the front, twisting the end round and round.

‘It’s not my fault,’ she said eventually. ‘And this morning I had to stop and help the cat.’

‘Did you pick it up?’

‘He was bleeding ever so much from his back leg. I wanted to get him onto the side away from any traffic, but he kept growling. I think he was just frightened, so I ran straight to the vet’s and he came back with me with a towel and picked him up with no trouble at all. He said I’d saved his life.’ She looked up at Lana, her eyes anxious.

‘An emergency disrupts the normal routine, but you did the right thing.’ She briefly touched Priscilla’s arm in sympathy. ‘But let’s start at the beginning,’ she said. ‘You’re living at Bingham Hall at the moment, aren’t you?’

Priscilla hung her head.

‘Priscilla?’

‘Yes, but it’s not my proper home.’

Lana raised her eyebrows.

‘It’s just for the time being,’ Priscilla explained. ‘Mum and Dad are away at the moment.’ She looked at Lana through misty eyes. ‘But they’re coming back for me soon.’

Lana didn’t know what to say. Priscilla was perfectly old enough to know how her parents had been killed. But the child was denying the truth.

‘Sometimes I start off late because I help some of the younger ones to dress,’ Priscilla went on. ‘And then I get into trouble for going into class when it’s already started. Miss Booth is always understanding, but Mrs Dayton used to report me to the headmaster.’ She burst into tears. ‘I’m glad he’s gone. He was horrible.’ She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose.

She began to cry again and Lana put her arm around the child’s slender shoulders. This was worse than she’d imagined. Priscilla really thought her parents were coming back for her. Her mind raced, wondering how to deal with the situation. Was it too soon to remind Priscilla that her parents were never coming back? It wasn’t doing her any good living in a dream when there was no possibility of it coming true.

‘Well, you’re safe at Bingham Hall for now,’ Lana said feebly.

‘But when we win the war they’ll come and fetch me, won’t they?’ Priscilla’s eyes were anxious. She put her finger to her mouth and chewed a nail.

‘I don’t know the full story,’ Lana said, noticing all Priscilla’s nails were bitten to the quick. She’d have to do something about that, but first things first. ‘For now I’m going to take you back to class. Which one are you in?’

‘Geography.’

Lana’s heart sank. Janice’s.

‘Let’s put the chairs back then,’ Lana said, undoing her raincoat. ‘I’ll leave my things here for the moment.’ She eased her case into a corner with her foot and threw her coat over the top.

Janice’s mouth fell open as Lana strode in to the geography class without her raincoat or suitcase, Priscilla a step behind. The teacher quickly recovered herself and gestured to the children to remain seated, then silently pointed to Priscilla’s desk at the side. The child hurried over and slid behind it as Lana went over to Janice.

‘Sorry to disturb you,’ she said quietly, ‘but Priscilla rescued an injured cat.’

‘I’ll speak to her after class.’

‘There’s no need,’ Lana said, ignoring the flash of anger in Janice’s piercing brown eyes. ‘I already have. But we’ve disturbed you enough.’ She smiled encouragingly at Priscilla who didn’t meet her eye.

Lana returned to the gym and collected her raincoat and case, then walked back to the cottage. Mr Shepherd had given her today to settle in, so she didn’t have to be anywhere particular until tomorrow. She smiled to herself. She knew how she was going to spend the rest of her day.

Chapter Eight

Lana was exhausted but very satisfied. The cottage gleamed. She hadn’t known what to do with some of the piles, but half of the stuff was now in Janice’s bedroom, stacked as neatly as she could. She’d just finished laying the table for supper when she heard the front door open.

Janice must have gone in the sitting room to dump her coat as usual. All was deathly quiet. After a couple of minutes Lana heard the dining room door close. Then a shadow fell at the kitchen door.

‘You decided to come back, then?’ Janice came in slamming the door behind her and sat down at the kitchen table.

‘I think it was the word “quitter” that annoyed me,’ Lana retorted.

‘Nothing to do with Priscilla, then?’

‘Oh, yes, Priscilla was partly to blame because she needs help … anyway, here I am.’

‘Mmm.’ Janice cast her eyes round the kitchen. ‘I see you’ve tidied up a bit.’

‘I wouldn’t say “tidied” was accurate. More like a Herculean effort. But I had nothing else on the list for today.’

‘Just as long as you don’t throw your weight around,’ Janice said, ‘and start nagging.’

‘I shall do just that if you don’t blooming well keep it straight – and clean it sometimes.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly compete with you. You’ve done it so well.’ There was a sarcastic edge to Janice’s tone, which Lana ignored.

‘I hate cleaning, but I hate living in a mess more,’ Lana said. ‘And by the way, I can cook but I refuse to do all of it.’

‘I’m not that interested in food, but I’ll give it a try.’

‘Don’t force yourself,’ Lana said lightly.

The two women ate their meal in silence.

‘Are you sure Cook didn’t make this?’ Janice said, soaking up the last of the cheese sauce with a piece of bread, and popping it into her mouth.

‘All by my own fair hands.’ Lana held them out, palms upward, for Janice to inspect.

‘Hm. Those lily-whites don’t look as though they’ve scrubbed down too many front doorsteps.’

‘I’m not afraid of hard work,’ Lana said, annoyed at Janice’s perpetual sarcasm. ‘I’ve certainly done more than my share today on the cottage.’

Janice’s tight mouth told her not to pursue the subject.

After they’d finished the macaroni cheese and baked apple, Janice sat back in her chair, a look of satisfaction flitting across her narrow face.

‘I think I enjoyed that meal better than any for a long time,’ she said.

‘You’re only saying that to encourage me to continue cooking,’ Lana said, relaxing a little. ‘I think I’m getting to know you now.’

‘What, after only a day?’ Janice leaned forward. ‘Tell me the truth. What happened to bring you back? The last I heard was that you were leaving.’