The Boy with the Suitcase, page 16
‘It doesn’t say.’ The girl looked uncomfortable and then frowned. ‘I’ll have to ask my superior anyway – and you’ll need to bring something in to prove you are her aunt.’
She looked relieved, as if she’d found a get-out for herself. Rose knew she was stumped. She couldn’t prove she was Alice’s aunt in law, because she wasn’t – and that meant they wouldn’t give her the name of the orphanage even if they knew it.
‘It seems mighty strange to me you don’t have her address,’ she said accusingly. ‘I’ve a good mind to go to the police about you lot.’
The girl looked alarmed. ‘It isn’t my fault, we had a fire during a raid last week. It got put out quick and the records in the metal file were safe but some papers that were due to be filed were lost.’ She looked guilty. ‘I’m sorry I can’t help you – but if you bring your identity papers in, I can release the name of the farm to you and they might know.’
Rose nodded and left. She’d known there wasn’t much chance of getting the address before she went, but she’d hoped she might get a junior – and juniors sometimes made slip-ups. Damn officialdom and the rules! Rose wished she’d got the address of the farm from Dora. It hadn’t seemed important while Dora was alive – especially after her promises to take Rose to visit.
Tears stung Rose’s eyes once more. She was glad they’d made their differences up before Dora was killed in that blooming raid, but she wished her friend was still here. Several of the houses had been damaged by the raid, but Rose’s home only had a couple of windows broken, which Harry Smith had got patched up for her. Why did it have to be Dora’s house that took the direct hit and why hadn’t the silly woman gone to the underground for shelter?
Alice in an orphanage! It didn’t bear thinking of. How had she taken the news of her mother’s death – her gran’s, too? Though she would have been expecting that.
Rose’s heart ached for her and the lad who had been sent off to Canada. He might never know what had happened to his mother, might never return to his country – though once Dave got home from the war, if he did, he would leave no stone unturned to find his children. Rose wondered if she should write to Dave Blake and tell him what had happened – and yet if she did that, he would surely find it too hard to bear. He was probably at sea and when he docked the news would surely be waiting for him? If he came back to search for his son and daughter, Rose would do all she could to help.
What of Alice in the meantime? The thought of the child’s pain and anxiety was tearing Rose apart. She felt frustration and anger at the plight of the little girl she loved. Even the best of orphanages were not nice places to be sent to and some were terrible. She clenched her fists. She could kill that lot round the council who had just sent her off to strangers again. If only they’d asked locally if anyone would take her on.
‘No one has told you that your mother was killed in her own home by a bomb last month?’ Miss Weatherspoon’s hard eyes gleamed with an emotion that was hard to decipher. ‘Well, that is quite disgraceful. You should have been told by the people you were with; it was their responsibility. Never mind, I’ve told you now. I’m afraid your home was completely destroyed too – so there is nothing left. Anything you didn’t take with you when you went to the farm would have burned in the fire. So, you see, you’re lucky to have a new home here and the clothes we provide for you.’
Alice felt the coarse material of the grey dress itching around her neck. They’d taken the two pretty dresses Auntie Annie had made for her away and given her this shapeless thing to wear. Her dresses had to be kept for best, if she went visiting with someone. She hated it, but it was the rule that everyone wore the same clothes and her dresses were being stored in case she was called for and taken out for a few hours.
Some of the children did have rare visits from relatives who gave them a lovely tea at a restaurant in Cambridge. They were the lucky ones. Only five or six out of the two hundred children housed in the orphanage had people on the outside, as Molly called it.
‘I think of it as being in prison,’ Molly told her once when they had escaped to visit the horses in a field a mile or so away from where the orphanage was situated. ‘My crime is that all my close family died. Only my Aunt June is left. She’s my mother’s sister but she isn’t married and she can’t afford to have me live with her because she says folk might think I was hers and she could lose her job. When she can, she sends me a little money.’ She shook her head. ‘One day I’ll be set free and so will you, Alice. Always remember that. You won’t be here forever unless you die, and you don’t want to do that. Only the cissies do that. We’re tough, aren’t we?’
Alice agreed that they were, but she didn’t feel that way inside. If it hadn’t been for Molly, she thought she might have sat in her corner in the dormitory and died. She was regularly called out by Miss Weatherspoon and given a rap across the hands, but it was only ever one. Some of the girls in her house got three or even four and Alice had seen them run away in tears – but they were the defiant ones. Alice had learned to take her punishment meekly and to answer when she was spoken to but say nothing at any other time except when she was with her Molly. She played with some of the other girls in games like tag and skipping with a rope, but she seldom joined in the chatter.
At school, she wrote busily in her exercise book when given work to do and it was often praised. Her teacher reported that she was a studious, industrious girl, but the truth was she was too cowed to do anything else.
She thought often of her time with Auntie Annie, who had died in the hospital while having an operation to remove something from her tummy. Alice didn’t really understand, but Molly had heard Miss Button telling Miss Weatherspoon about it and so she’d told her what it meant. Alice understood then why Uncle Bob had cried and seemed so helpless. Auntie Annie had done everything for him at the farm and he must miss her.
Alice cried for her mother, and for Aunt Annie, but she cried into her pillow when the other girls were asleep, because Molly was right. Some of the older girls were cruel and spiteful and they punished any sign of weakness. They seemed to delight in pulling her hair as they ran past and if she cried or complained they would just bully her more. There was no one she could tell except Molly, and she said it was best just to ignore what the bullies did.
‘If you get them into trouble with the housemistresses, they’ll get you back another day and make your life a misery. You have to keep quiet and eventually they’ll get fed up and ignore you. There’s always another new girl they can torment soon enough.’
For the moment Alice was the new girl, but there was no one she could ask for help anyway. Daddy was at sea fighting the enemy. Did he even know where she was – and what could he do if he did? Alice didn’t trust the housemistresses and Molly could do nothing. She tried to think of someone who might help her and suddenly saw Rose’s smiling face. Aunt Rose had always been kind to her. Perhaps if she could send her a letter she would come and fetch her away from this horrid place? Alice knew Aunt Rose lived near where she’d lived but she didn’t know the number and she couldn’t recall her second name. If she sent a letter to Aunt Rose in Silver Terrace, would it reach her? Or would it be best to try and write to her father?
Alice didn’t know and she didn’t have any paper or envelopes or the money for a stamp. Would the housemistress give her one if she asked? She wasn’t sure and was too afraid of having her hand caned to ask.
CHAPTER 17
The mother bear brought her cubs down to drink at the water as it gently rippled over rocks at the edge of the lake. She had suddenly appeared from the wooded slopes of the rise, her cubs following her once she gave the signal that it was safe to come out of hiding. Davey saw her while he was fishing for their supper. There were some wonderful fish here; Bert said they had come up the inlet from the sea and were coming home to spawn, which meant to lay eggs in the shallows here. Then, Bert said, they would likely die after they’d deposited their eggs.
‘If we take them before they’ve spawned it means there won’t be any new fish here next year, but if we take them from the shallows after they’ve spawned, in June it’s a good thing, for us and them. They make good eating, those salmon.’
Davey had never eaten fresh salmon before he’d come to Canada, though he’d once had a pink salmon sandwich at someone’s birthday party. He hadn’t liked that much, to be honest, but the way Bert fried them in the pan with a little fat they’d saved from cooking one of the ducks they’d trapped, they were delicious. So he was quite happy to sit and try to catch a fish as it wallowed in the shallows.
The bear was much better at fishing than he was, Davey soon realised. It watched patiently and then suddenly dived forward and flicked the fish with its paw onto the bank, where it flapped helpless until caught and held in the bear’s teeth. Instead of eating it, the bear let her cubs eat the fish and returned to the water to watch for another. At that moment Davey saw his chance as a salmon seemed unable to move out of the shallow water close to him. He jumped in after it and gave a cry of triumph as he managed to seize it, tossing it onto the bank, where he intended to kill it with a wooden club they used for the purpose. He had his back turned towards the bear when he felt icy cold at his nape and, turning quickly, he saw the bear no more than two yards away. She had clearly seen Davey’s salmon and decided she wanted it.
For a moment Davey was tempted to stand his ground and try scaring her off, but remembering what Bert had said about the bears only attacking when they were hungry, he stood absolutely still as it approached, stared at him for a moment and then snatched the salmon and lumbered off. Davey breathed again as the mother bear disappeared into the trees with her salmon, which had been a big one, her cubs following obediently.
Davey’s legs felt shaky and he sat down abruptly on the ground just as Bert came running towards him. He was carrying his gun and looked anxious.
‘Are you all right, lad?’ he asked breathlessly. ‘I was coming to see what you’d caught and saw the bear heading towards you. I went back for my gun but I thought I might be too late …’
‘She only wanted the salmon I caught,’ Davey said as his breath came back. ‘It was amazing, Bert. She caught a salmon and let the cubs eat it – and then I caught a really big one and she sneaked up behind me as I was thinking how best to kill it.’
‘Thank God you didn’t try to save your salmon,’ Bert said, sighing with relief. ‘She could have torn you to pieces before I could do anything, lad.’
‘She stole our supper,’ Davey said ruefully. ‘It was the first one I managed to catch all afternoon.’
‘Not to worry,’ Bert said. ‘I caught one with my net down by the inlet. I wasn’t sure you would get anything – the June spawn isn’t always that good here – and one is enough for us, Davey. We can always try again tomorrow. As long as you were not hurt, that’s the important thing.’
Davey grinned at him. ‘It would take more than one old bear to get me,’ he bragged and saw Bert smile. The old man had clearly been really worried about him and that meant he cared. Davey felt warm inside, because he’d never been sure whether Bert put up with him just because Albert asked him, or whether he liked him being around. Now he knew that Bert had got fond of him, just as he’d learned to love him.
They walked back to the shack together. Davey looked up at Bert. ‘What are we going to do if Albert never comes?’ he asked, because it was a question that needed to be asked. It was more than three months now since Albert had last visited and that was too long – he’d said he would only be gone for three weeks. Albert had to be ill – or dead. If his ship had been attacked, he might have been drowned and they might never know.
‘Not sure I know,’ Bert admitted. ‘If it was just me, I’d probably make do on what I could take from the water and the traps, but you need more so mebbe we’ll have to go into Waterford one of these days.’
‘That’s where Albert hired the truck to come out here – it’s a long way to walk,’ Davey observed doubtfully.
‘We shan’t walk all the way. Just to where the bus passes,’ Bert told him. ‘It passes twice a week on Mondays and Thursdays as you know and it goes all the way to Halifax, but we don’t need to go that far for a pot of jam. We can get all we need from Corky’s place.’
‘Do you know Corky well?’ Davey asked curiously and saw a look of sadness pass across Bert’s face.
‘Aye, lad. I knew him well once – when my wife was alive. She used to do a bit of school teaching and she was the local seamstress. Lovely woman she was, but after she died, I just wanted to be alone.’
Davey respected his privacy and didn’t ask any more questions. Bert would tell him what he wanted him to know, and it was no use asking for more.
‘Yep, that’s what we’ll do when I’m certain Albert ain’t coming back,’ Bert said as if to himself. ‘Corky will buy a trinket from me, give me enough for what we need for a while.’
‘You won’t sell your chair?’ Davey said, feeling sad that Bert must sell his treasures.
‘Nay, not the chair, lad,’ Bert agreed. ‘I’ve a few bits put by for an emergency. Corky would have bought them years back but I had no need of the money. They’ll see us through for a while, and maybe Albert will turn up one of these days. He might have gone on the Atlantic run for some reason.’
Albert had been adamant that he wouldn’t make the dangerous journey but perhaps he’d been ordered to. After all, there was a war on and he might not have been able to get the short voyage he’d wanted. It was a faint hope, Davey knew, but if it kept Bert’s hopes alive, perhaps it was a good thing.
Alice saw that Molly had a letter that morning and inside it was a postal order. Her friend showed it to her with glee, her eyes shining.
‘It’s from Aunt June,’ she told Alice. ‘She must be feeling rich because she’s sent me five shillings! I’ll buy some sweets this Saturday when we get taken out and I’ll share them with you.’
Alice nodded and smiled at Molly’s excitement. She didn’t grudge her friend the five shillings, not one iota. She just wished there was someone who cared about her even a little bit, but it seemed there was no one. Mummy had gone to Heaven and she didn’t know where her daddy was. Davey had been sent to Canada and she didn’t know how to contact him. She’d hoped and hoped he would write to her, but he hadn’t so she supposed he’d forgotten her.
Holding back her tears as the bell for classes set them scurrying to their form room, Alice wished that she had a few pennies, because then she might be able to write to Aunt Rose in London.
Rose stared at the ruins of her house in disbelief. She’d spent the night sheltering in the underground when the raid came, not emerging until this morning when the all-clear sounded. When she’d reached Silver Terrace it had been almost obliterated, only a few houses left standing at one end. Her own home was a smouldering ruin and, by the looks of it, she wouldn’t even be able to save her biscuit tin full of photographs.
Most women these days carried their most precious things in a bag of some sort and kept it with them down the underground. Rose was no different; she had all her personal papers, her Post Office Savings book, a few really precious photographs and her few items of jewellery as well as a change of underwear and a new twinset she’d bought the previous day and hadn’t remembered to take out. She was also wearing her one good coat.
‘This your place, missus?’ a kindly voice asked, and she turned to look at the ARP warden with tears in her eyes.
‘Yeah. Bloody Jerries have destroyed nearly everything I had – not that that was much, mind you. Blast that Hitler to Hell. What am I supposed to do now?’
‘You get down the Mission Hall, missus,’ the warden told her. ‘They’ll give you a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich and see if they can find you clothes to fit and a bed to sleep in until you can make your own arrangements.’
Rose sighed. She didn’t know why she’d asked – she knew the drill. Plenty of her friends had already been made homeless and she was aware how difficult it was to find good accommodation.
‘Bloody Jerries,’ she muttered again and turned away, walking bang into Harry Smith. He was staring at the scene of devastation and shaking his head.
‘That’s rotten luck, Rose,’ he said. ‘I heard that Silver Terrace had been hit so I came down to see if you were all right. I’m sorry you lost your home but you can come and stay with me – no strings. I’ve got a spare room and you can have what you want of my late wife’s things. She didn’t have your style, but you can use them until you get better. They give you some extra coupons if they know you’ve been bombed.’
‘Yeah, I know, thanks, Harry.’ Rose hesitated and then decided it would be better than sleeping on a mattress on the floor in a church hall, which was about all she would be offered. ‘I’ll come on those terms but it’s only until I can get my own place – and I’ll be hauntin’ the council until they come up with something decent.’
‘We can get your letters redirected,’ Harry said as he saw the postman looking at the devastation in bewilderment. ‘I’ll check if he has anything for you, Rose.’
He went up to the man and inquired and was given an envelope, which he brought back to her. ‘It looks like it’s a bill from the electric, Rose. Don’t worry about it, I’ll sort it out.’
Rose inclined her head. She would pay him any money he spent out for her, just as she had when she was in hospital. Her aches and pains were much less now though she still walked with a slight limp, but it didn’t stop her doing her job at the factory and she would carry on, even though Harry would be happy to take her over. Rose didn’t want that – at least, she wasn’t ready for it just yet and if Reg ever came back, he would probably knock her head off for going to live with Harry, even if she was in the spare room. Yet what was her alternative? Not one she fancied much, so she would take her chance and when Reg came back, she would leave it to Harry to explain.
