The Orphan's Letters, page 1
The Orphan’s Letters
Glynis Peters
One More Chapter
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2022
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Copyright © Glynis Peters 2022
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Cover design by Lucy Bennett © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2022
Cover photograph: © Collaboration JS / Arcangel Images
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Glynis Peters asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
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This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
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Source ISBN: 9780008492410
Ebook Edition © November 2022 ISBN: 9780008492403
Version: 2022-06-21
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Acknowledgments
Thank you for reading…
About the Author
Also by Glynis Peters
One More Chapter...
About the Publisher
For the student nurses I trained and lived with at St. Margaret’s, Epping during the ’70’s.
We worked hard and played harder. Thankfully we had no war to deal with, only Matron!
Chapter One
Kitty Pattison looked at the small group around her, then down at her blood-spattered apron. Her body trembled with cold from the snow, and shock. Her tongue struggled to move around her dry mouth as she tried to call for help. People lay everywhere and she struggled to understand what had happened. The screaming voices, and the rattling bells of the fire engines vibrated her eardrums, and she clamped her chilblained hands over her ears.
Exhausted from another night of heavy bombing, Kitty wondered how much more northern England could take – how much more she could endure; the deaths were getting to her, and her body ached less than her heart after the recent attack. Winter cold was another obstacle and she watched people struggling to keep warm as they headed in nightclothes towards the makeshift medical or tea marquees.
‘Another night like this and we’ll have nowhere to work,’ complained a doctor Kitty was seconded to work alongside.
‘It’s better than not having anywhere to live or parents to watch over you,’ Kitty retorted. The man had done nothing but moan all evening. She appreciated he was tired and frustrated, but talking like a defeatist in front of frightened victims was not – in Kitty’s opinion – the professional approach.
‘We’re sitting ducks, doesn’t that scare you, Kitty?’ asked one of the other Red Cross nurses working nearby.
‘I think Hitler invading frightens me more, but yes, areas like this make those living around here easy targets,’ Kitty replied and continued to assist the doctor attempting to stem the blood flow from a pregnant woman’s leg. The woman looked exhausted and Kitty wondered what her life was like before the war. Going by the five children hanging around her skirts – faces black with soot and dust – not an easy one, but better than today, of that Kitty was certain. The woman was pulled from the wreckage of her home and refused to budge until all of her children were found. She said her husband was a stevedore on duty, but they feared he was crushed in the first wave of the bomb attack and her children were all she had left to remind her of the love they shared.
The British docks were large targets for Hitler, and he ensured his pilots kept up their endless attacks. Quite often the pilots would offload excess bombs when they headed home, and residential properties bore the brunt of their disposal. The latter part of 1941 was proving to be a nightmare with back-to-back rescue missions. Every spare minute was spent helping the injured and the duty rota at the hospital rolled into one long week of working nonstop, and brought about the same horrific duties for Kitty on a daily basis. Her dreams were now nightmares and she often only had two quiet hours per day, which were frequently disturbed by night sweats and the calling out of the other girls in the room, enduring their own horrors.
Kitty knew she was at the end of her tether with mopping up blood and seeing young men lose their limbs, or their bodies burned beyond recognition or help. She sobbed in private and smiled at those who needed someone strong and supportive in their lives. They deserved that much from her, but she was not sure how much longer she could paint on the smile. She had lost hope and it was a dangerous thing to lose during World War Two.
With a heavy heart, Kitty had sent a letter to Michael, expressing her feelings – in need of his guidance and the comfort of his wise words.
She gave up on his response when, after weeks, she had not received a reply. The silence haunted her. Would she ever know if he was still alive? Had he remembered to name her as next of kin when they got engaged? She had added him to her list alongside her aunt and uncle. In her last letter she asked if she was to be contacted should anything happen to him. When they spoke about being orphans, Kitty remembered he had never spoken about other living relatives in Canada. Would she ever become Mrs Michael McCarthy and visit the land of his birth? Questions pounded her each day and drained her emotional bank.
The more Canadian patients she met, the more curious she became about the country. With the recent bombing of Pearl Harbor, she took more notice of America and – along with the rest of Britain – waited for news of their forces also arriving on British soil for support against Hitler.
Life for a twenty-one-year-old was not what Kitty had imagined and she felt sure a lot of people her age felt the same. One of the biggest troubles rambling around her mind was that of finishing her nurse training. The positivity she felt at the start of it all had now dwindled, the more exhausted she became, but she knew something else nagged away at her and she had a decision to make which might alter her life path.
Her friends Stanley and Jenny Walker-Fell had a house full of local orphans and Jenny’s health had declined during the winter months. Stanley had gone from strength to strength since leaving Kitty’s ward in Shotley Bridge Hospital and his gait had now improved to no more than a minor limp. Allowing him back into the RAF was the best thing the force could have done, for him and for themselves. Kitty’s friendship with his wife had grown into a strong one, and Kitty didn’t hesitate to join them when invited to enjoy Christmas at Fell Hall with the children. In between festive activities, Kitty spent time encouraging those floundering in their new life to speak about their fears – telling them she understood. Their faces often showed a little more interest in life when she confided she too was orphaned at a very young age, and they could trust her to help where she could.
Two of Kitty’s favourite orphans, the Gaskin brothers Peter and David, were now living on a farm but joined them for Christmas dinner. They made the most of their day away from chores by hiding under the table tying Kitty’s shoelaces together or sneaking extra pieces of ham, their gift to Jenny for the celebration table, to feed the dog. Kitty loved how the two orphans embraced life – how they handled the devastating loss of their parents. They met with Stanley on a regular basis, and he gave them school lessons inside his home, which gave them sanctuary when they needed it most. They were the first of Jenny’s successes and they adored her.
The other children Kitty met all benefited from a newfound dose of affection. Some of them had never had any before they lost their parents, and often rebelled at hugs and regular bathing. Others c
When she left the hall on Boxing Day for night duty at the hospital, it was with a heavy heart.
At the end of her shift, Kitty yawned and stretched. Her body ached, and she needed sleep. She knew her mind needed clearing and release from the thoughts racing around inside. Rushing through her tasteless evening meal, and declining various invitations to join the other girls in her quarters, Kitty curled into a ball on her bed and fought the nightmares which threatened.
Chapter Two
1942
The harsh wind hissed through a rotten window ledge and Jo’s voice echoed down the telephone line. ‘Happy New Year! A week late, but what the heck, 1942, can you believe it? Let’s hope it’s the last one of this darn war.’
‘We can only hope!’ Kitty called back and sat shivering as she chatted with her friend in the old guard room. Her sympathies went out to the guard, who sat at the entrance of the hospital gates day after day. She’d taken him a warm cocoa and a cheese sandwich on Boxing Day and from then on he allowed her to use the telephone to call Jo, which meant she no longer had to wait in a long queue in the nurse quarters. ‘Jo, I’m like a walking shadow. I can’t eat properly, and I’ve realised I’ve given nursing everything I have. I knew it in November, and held off until now. I can’t keep hiding from the truth.’ Kitty leaned her forehead against the wall in front of her, desperately trying not to cry. Jo had already made a switch from nursing to become a driver for the Red Cross and understood the sacrifices Kitty had made in the past year.
Before she could draw breath, Jo jumped in with a forthright response. Her voice was firm and steady. ‘And then some, Kitty. You have gone above and beyond. I’ve seen you burned out but still jumping to the call for someone to crawl down dangerous holes, choking on gas. Rescue and orphans, that’s your passion and you know my thoughts on leaving a placement you no longer feel you can give your all. You’ve done your duty in every hospital you’ve worked in, and it’s time to change direction,’ Jo said.
Jo’s voice was a comfort and bold – reassuring, but Kitty still struggled with the idea of walking away from a nursing career.
‘That’s true, but why am I feeling guilty?’ Kitty replied, untangling her fingers from the telephone cord. Her nerves were twitching with anxiety.
‘Probably ’cos of the team you are in – you’re a loyal soul, but another nurse will take your place and you’ll soon be forgotten. Start thinking about yourself for a change. Listen, get some rest, I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you. Speak soon and remember how happy I am now I’ve made the move.’
‘Thanks, Jo. Not hearing from Michael isn’t helping.’
‘Take a break. I’ll deal with it for you. Get yourself to Trix, she’s our calming force. Regroup and, whatever happens, you will be stronger. No arguments, I’ll get back to you. Speak soon.’ Jo hung up and Kitty knew she couldn’t argue against taking a break. She replaced the handset and took a moment to reflect on the conversation.
Relieved Jo had proved herself to be a loyal friend once again, Kitty managed to relax, eventually, and thought about her future.
It was New Year when Stanley and Jenny approached Kitty about a Red Cross project, under discussion with the Durham section, wanting her advice on who to employ in Jenny’s place. Jenny no longer had the strength to help the two local volunteers and needed to step away from the more hectic side of housing the orphaned children. They were also the reason Kitty wanted to do more for the orphaned children in their area. The Walker-Fells deserved the support.
She telephoned Jo from the draughty guard room to seek out her advice. Once the general chit-chat was over, Kitty explained her quandary over the job opportunity.
‘Listen, Kitty, what Fell Hall offers sounds the perfect job and, don’t forget, not many would know what to say to an orphaned kiddy, but I’ve seen you in action – as I say, the job’s perfect for you,’ Jo said down the line. ‘Apply for it. You can always return to nurse training if it doesn’t work out – take the chance, Kitty. Darn it; I have to dash, speak again soon. Stay safe, my friend.’ Disappointed their chat was cut short, Kitty returned her goodbyes and replaced the handset. Later, as she thought over her friend’s response, Jo’s positivity boosted her determination to make the necessary changes in her life.
The following day, another call for all staff to the ward after only one hour of leaving made up her mind. Kitty took in the fresh batch of horrors facing her and her colleagues and her knees buckled beneath her. She bent to regain her balance and courage, but knew this was no longer the path she could follow. It broke her heart, but if she was going to do any good during the battle against Hitler, it had to be done with a strong mind and hers was no longer of any use inside Shotley Bridge Hospital. It was time to face the facts and speak to Matron.
The matron of Shotley Bridge tore into Kitty for abandoning those in need and accused her of thinking only of herself. The accusation stung and Kitty drew upon the last source of energy left inside her war-torn body to remain calm; the actions and verbal reprimand of her elder angered and upset her. She removed her cap and bloodied apron, laid them both on her senior’s desk and, despite trying to hold onto a smidgen of dignity, she caved in and broke down in tears. Once the tears subsided, she looked the matron directly in the eye and realised it was not the first time the woman had dealt with the same sort of situation.
‘I’m sorry you feel I’ve let the side down, Matron. However, my inner desire to help orphan children during this war burns like an ache – it’s a painful reminder of my own loss at such an early age and I can no longer ignore the calling. I’ve worked hard to complete my nurse training, but just know I can’t continue. I’ve nothing left to give here anymore and if it makes me selfish, then you are right, I am. I’m just…’
Kitty drooped her head. She had chosen her words carefully between sniffles, still annoyed at herself for becoming tearful and out of control. She knew it was frustration created by the woman in front of her with a furrowed brow and dismissive manner relating to Kitty’s desire to care for orphans.
‘It’s a passing fancy. You became too close to the Walker-Fells, and they’ve confused you. You have a lot to give us here.’ Matron wagged her finger and scowled at Kitty.
With resentment that the woman wasn’t taking her seriously, Kitty gave a vigorous shake of her head to emphasise her denial of the woman’s words. ‘No. It’s not a fancy. It’s something I did before signing up. I cared for children pulled away from their parents; Jewish little ones – bewildered and lost. I beg you to help me by writing to my Red Cross recruitment leader and explaining I am the right person to run Fell Hall – even for a brief time. The Walker-Fells have sent their recommendation, but your referral would have more influence. I’ll be joining the emergency rescue team in Brancepeth, making use of my valuable skills learned here, too.’
