Chapter Two
They arrived at Newcastle Central Station with fifteen minutes to spare. Just enough time to pop into the station buffet to fortify himself with something stronger than a cup of tea. Mr Jenkins eyed his charges doubtfully. Would they bolt? Certainly on the way here one of them had looked fidgety every time the tram stopped, but Mr Jenkins had taken the precaution of sitting between them on the bench seat at the rear of the carriage. This meant that although it would be easy for one to run for it, he wouldn’t be able to communicate with the other and, even if he did manage to, Mr Jenkins would be able to hold on to him. He knew instinctively that one would never leave without the other.
The weather was foul and the deputy head of Haven House thought he had more than done his duty in leaving his cosy private sitting room to take the uncomfortable local train into town in order to collect the Norton lads. Furthermore he didn’t think the soft felt of his trilby hat would ever recover properly after the drenching it had received.
Normally it would have been the job of one of the younger teachers to collect the boys, but with the Partingtons’ involvement in this matter, the headmaster, Mr Ford, had thought it best to send a senior member of staff. Hugh Partington was immensely rich and even though he must have taken a financial hit just a month ago when the Wall Street Crash affected stock markets worldwide, he was still one of the wealthiest men on Tyneside. Mr Ford was keen to encourage the Partingtons’ continued support, so his request that they should take in the Norton brothers could not be refused.
In George Jenkins’ opinion, such devotion to duty deserved a little reward. But what would he do with the twins? He scanned the other passengers crossing the concourse and smiled when he saw a familiar face. Constable John Robinson was one of the police officers regularly on duty at the Central Station who were under specific instructions to look out for the unfortunate starvelings, both boys and girls, who pestered travellers with outright begging, or picked their pockets or even ran off with their luggage.
John Robinson had seen George and he smiled as he walked towards him. ‘Another two lads for the Haven?’
George nodded.
The constable stared at them and his eyes widened. ‘Twins, are they?’
‘Yes indeed.’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a couple more alike. Peas in a pod, as they say. How on earth will you tell them apart?’
‘That’s what I was wondering until I noticed that one of them is left-handed and the other right-handed. And look at their hair – those cowlicks are on opposite sides. Now I’ve just got to attach the appropriate name.’
‘So what’s the story?’
‘Father died years ago, mother was killed in a traffic accident, and their aunt can’t cope.’
‘Well, I hope they know how lucky they are getting a place in Haven House.’
‘I’m not sure if they do. That’s why I’d like you to do me a favour and keep an eye on them while I nip into the buffet for something to warm me up.’
‘Afraid they might run for it?’
‘That’s about it.’
‘Go on, then. Get yourself a drink.’
‘I won’t be long.’
Mr Jenkins hurried off to the buffet with alacrity and, although Constable Robinson didn’t actually stand over them, he was not far off. If they scarpered Joe guessed that one blast of his whistle would bring the other coppers running. And in any case, where would they go? No doubt by the time they got home Aunt Jane would have gone and taken Helen and Elsie with her. Mrs Andrews was a canny body but she wouldn’t be able to take them in. And even if she could she probably wouldn’t be allowed to keep them.
He turned to look at Danny to see how he was taking it. All their lives Joe had looked out for his younger twin. He wasn’t sure how it had started. He couldn’t remember ever making a conscious decision. It had just happened. And if Joe was a natural leader, then Danny seemed happy to follow. So it was all the more surprising to see that Danny, without being told, had taken the sandwiches from the bag.
He sensed Joe’s glance and looked up and smiled. ‘Ham and pease pudding. Just the ticket. Let’s eat them now while we’re waiting.’
A minute or two later Constable Robinson glanced over and saw the two boys eating as if they hadn’t had a good meal for days. He studied them closely. Eleven or twelve, he thought, about the same as his own son Derek. And they were bonny lads, that was for sure, with their attractive young faces topped by a mop of unruly dark blond hair.
By the look of them they had been well cared for. Loved. They both seemed confident although in different ways. One looked ready to take on the world. The other seemed more easy-going, as if ready to deal calmly with whatever life threw at him.
He wondered how they would settle in Haven House. The establishment wasn’t exactly an orphanage. There were boys there who had been taken away from their families for their own good. Founded by a God-fearing industrialist in the last century, the home aimed to educate the lads sufficiently to make them suitable for employment. Although what employment was to be found in these hard times God alone knew.
Nevertheless, while they were there they would be fed and clothed and if there was no mother’s love to be had, at least they would be better off than the hopeless youngsters with pinched, malnourished faces who infested the station.
An impulse took Constable Robinson to the newspaper and confectionery kiosk where he bought a bottle of pop.
‘Here you are, lads,’ he said a moment later. ‘Dandelion and burdock to wash your sandwiches down.’
One twin looked up suspiciously but the other smiled with surprise and said, ‘Thank you.’ He nudged his brother.
‘Oh, yes, thanks,’ the other lad said. Then added with a formality that belied his years, ‘It’s very good of you.’
‘Well, then, I’ll leave you to it,’ the policeman said and, as he walked away, he took out his handkerchief and blew his nose, cursing himself for a sentimental softy.
‘Where did you get that?’
Mr Jenkins stood over them frowning accusingly.
Danny, who had just taken a swig from the bottle, gulped and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘Keep your hair on,’ Joe said. ‘We didn’t nick it if that’s what you’re thinking. Your pal the copper gave it to us.’ Their inquisitor raised his eyebrows and Joe added, ‘Go on – ask him.’
Mr Jenkins took the bottle of pop from Danny and turned to seek out Constable Robinson in the crowded concourse. The policeman caught his glance and, seeing the pop bottle held aloft, grinned and gave the thumbs up.
‘All right then, I believe you,’ Mr Jenkins said. ‘But you must learn to speak to me in a more respectful manner.’
Joe stared up at him. This man who had hardly spoken to them since they had left home and who had seemed so mild-mannered as he sat in the front parlour eating their sandwiches and fruit cake might, after all, be tricky to deal with.
‘Well, then?’ Mr Jenkins said and, as he leaned over him menacingly Joe smelled the alcohol on his breath.
‘Well what?’ Joe asked and received a dig in the ribs from Danny. ‘Oh, yes,’ he mumbled. ‘Sorry.’
‘Sorry, sir.’
‘Sorry, sir.’ Joe tried his best to keep the belligerence from his tone. For Danny’s sake he sensed he must not antagonize this man.
‘Very well, then. Pack up your sandwiches. We have to get along to the platform.’
Joe and Danny followed Mr Jenkins over the footbridge over the tracks as their train pulled alongside the platform. As the engine passed under the bridge it sent up a jet of steam that made Joe blink. The soot made his eyes water. At least that was what he told himself. He rubbed at them with closed fists and forced back the howl of anguish that would have revealed to the world that he was not as tough as he had thought himself.
‘Hurry up,’ Danny said softly. ‘We’ll eat the rest of our sandwiches on the train and pretend it’s a picnic like Helen said we should.’
Joe grinned and nodded. The moment had passed. Whatever lay ahead, Danny would need him to look out for him, wouldn’t he? And Joe was determined not to fail him.
Hugh stood with his arm round Selma and looked down at the sleeping child. He caught his breath. Just as Selma had told him he would be, he was stunned by her beauty. The soft light from a pink-shaded bedside lamp revealed eyelashes like dark crescents lying on slightly flushed cheeks. One softly rounded arm lay across the rosepink eiderdown and all that could be seen of the other was a hand lying palm upwards on the pillow beside her face. There was something about her – an odd sense of familiarity – that both puzzled him and stirred his emotions.
The warm glow from the fire in the hearth pervaded the room which Hugh must now learn to call the nursery. He pulled Selma close and she sighed contentedly as she rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder. Her slender body fitted into the curve of his arms and her hair, brushing against his chin, felt as silky as a baby bird’s feathers. She smelled of the light floral perfume that suited her so well.
Her happiness was so intense that Hugh thought it could be felt physically. Nevertheless he was uneasy. He had grown used to how impulsive Selma could be. Lost kittens, rescued dogs; over the years all had been welcomed into the household, and then found other homes if they had been troublesome. Now she had brought home a child. He wondered if she understood what a serious matter this was.
Selma pulled away. ‘What is it, Hugh? I sense that you are unhappy.’
‘No . . . I’m not unhappy.’
‘Uneasy, then?’
‘A little. I understand your instinct to help the orphaned family, but bringing one of them into our home is quite a responsibility. Are you sure you’ve done the right thing?’
‘Darling, just look at her! What do you see?’
‘A very beautiful child.’
Selma pulled away impatiently and turned to look up at him, eyes bright with eager emotion. ‘Yes, yes,’ she said impatiently. ‘But look closely. Who does she remind you of?’
Of course, that was the thought that had been hovering on the fringes of his mind. The child looked like Selma herself. A young, unformed Selma, but with the same fragile bone structure, darkfringed blue eyes and silky fair hair. ‘You,’ he breathed.
‘Yes, darling. She could be my daughter.’
Hugh caught his breath. ‘Selma . . . you’re not proposing that we—’
‘Adopt her?’ Selma’s eyes were shining. ‘That’s exactly what I’m proposing.’
‘But we don’t know anything about her.’
‘Yes, we do. She’s nine years old and she’s from a perfectly respectable family.’
‘Nine?’ Hugh was surprised. ‘She looks much younger.’
‘I know. Isn’t she sweet?’
Hugh controlled a spurt of irritation. ‘Selma, sweet has nothing to do with it. What do we know about her family?’
She smiled. ‘I knew you would ask that. I’m not as simple as you seem to think I am.’
‘I don’t think you’re simple. You are impulsive. Sometimes dangerously so.’
‘Hush, we might awaken her.’ Selma drew away from the bed. ‘I had enquiries made about the family. I knew you would ask.’
‘Enquiries?’
‘I asked old Arthur to find someone.’
‘Arthur Garwood? My solicitor?’
‘Who else? I told him the matter was urgent and he obliged by putting an enquiry agent on the case.’
Despite himself Hugh had to smile at his wife’s choice of words. ‘You sound like someone in a movie,’ he said. ‘On the case, indeed.’
‘Yes, well, he did.’
‘And what exactly did you tell Arthur?’
Selma frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘What reason did you give for wanting to know?’
‘I told him the truth, of course. He knew about the accident.’
‘No one has suggested that John was in any way responsible.’
‘Of course not. But it was our car and in some way that does make us responsible for what happens next. I told Arthur that we wanted to help this family so we needed to find out more about them.’
‘You didn’t mention adoption?’
‘Not at that stage.’
‘But you have mentioned it since?’
‘Well, of course. Once the report came back saying that the Norton family were poor but utterly respectable I did . . .’ she faltered, at last sensing that Hugh might deny her her wish. ‘Well . . . I did suggest that we . . .’ Selma turned in his arms, put her hands on his shoulders and looked up at him beseechingly. ‘Oh, Hugh, darling, you’re not going to say no, are you?’
He returned her look and his own eyes were troubled. ‘And if we have a child of our own?’
She shrugged impatiently and her voice hardened. ‘Don’t worry. In the unlikely event of that happening, you don’t think I would stop loving the child, do you?’
Hugh had spoken to Charles Harris after Selma’s recent appointment and his old friend had assured him that there was nothing wrong with either of them. Physically, that was. He had suggested that Selma’s deep unhappiness about her childless state might actually be preventing her from conceiving. If adopting this child would make her happy, then so be it. Whether or not they eventually had a child of their own, his wife’s happiness was of supreme importance to him.
He saw tears welling in her eyes and he pulled her close again. She slipped her arms around his waist and leaned against him for a moment. Then she pulled away just enough to look up into his face.
‘Well, then?’ she asked softly.
Even though he still doubted the wisdom of it, Hugh capitulated. ‘Very well. You shall have your way.’ He took her face in his hands and kissed her.
‘Oh, darling. You won’t regret this. Just think how wonderful Christmas will be!’
‘Christmas?’
‘Don’t look so puzzled. Yes, Christmas! We shall have holly and mistletoe, and paper garlands and the biggest tree we can find. You shall help decorate it and arrange the presents around the base. And we can build a snowman in the garden and go sledging on the Town Moor!’
At this Hugh laughed.
‘What is it? What have I said?’
‘I can promise you the tree and the presents, my darling, but only God can send the snow.’
‘Well, then, we shall just have to pray! I am determined that Elise will have the best Christmas she’s ever had.’
Hugh frowned. ‘I thought her name was Elsie.’
Selma smiled. ‘Yes, it was. But I have decided to change it to Elise. Elise Partington sounds so much more – well, so much more fitting than Elsie Partington, doesn’t it? I mean, Elsie! That’s so old-fashioned and just a little . . . well, just a little common.’
‘I don’t agree. My favourite great-aunt is called Elsie.’
‘I know, Hugh darling, but the old girl is positively antediluvian. Elise is so much more modern.’
‘I suppose so.’ Hugh looked doubtful but nevertheless he smiled. Then something occurred to him. ‘What if the aunt doesn’t agree?’
Selma looked puzzled. ‘We needn’t tell her that we think her name old-fashioned. Why would we?’
‘I didn’t mean that aunt. I meant the child’s aunt. What if she doesn’t agree to the adoption? After all, I suppose she must be the legal guardian if she’s the only remaining relative.’
‘Oh, she’ll agree, all right,’ Selma said. ‘As long as we pay her enough.’
Hugh looked shocked. ‘Pay her? We can’t buy a child. I’m sure it must be illegal.’
‘No, I didn’t mean we would buy her. We will give Mrs Roberts a nice little sum of money to help her to look after the older girl – and to compensate her for having to do so.’
Hugh took hold of his wife’s arms and stood back a little as he studied her. ‘Where did you learn to be so cynical?’
‘I’m not cynical, darling. I’m practical. Now, what’s the matter?’
‘If you have such a low opinion of the woman why are you happy to leave the older girl with her?’
Selma looked troubled for a moment. ‘Do you think I should find her a place with a good family?’
‘You mean, ask one of our friends if they want to adopt her?’
‘Of course not. Helen Norton is fourteen years old. I meant, find a family to take her in as a domestic.’
‘A servant?’
‘Yes.’ Selma frowned. ‘I considered it but apparently the girl is doing well at school and wants to stay on. I couldn’t bear to make anyone unhappy.’ Her brow cleared and she smiled as if she’d solved a knotty problem. ‘So it’s altogether best that she stay with her aunt.’
‘And the boys? Are you sure they’ll be happy at Haven House?’
‘Of course. They’ll be well looked after – especially as you are giving them such a generous donation. It will ensure that they are clothed, fed and educated. Trained to take up some suitable form of employment.’
‘So it seems you have it all arranged.’
Selma looked pleased with herself. ‘I have.’
‘But nevertheless there is something you may not have thought of.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Elise, as I must call her, might have wished to stay with her siblings.’
‘I’ve told you, that is impossible.’
‘You could have found them places in an orphanage where they could stay together.’
‘There’s no such place. The boys would have been separated from the girls. No, no, this is the best way, I assure you.’
‘And what if Elise misses her family? What if she wants to see them?’
‘Oh, no. I can’t have that. For her own sake I want her to forget all about her humble beginnings.’
‘Do you think that’s possible? She is nine years old.’
For a moment Selma’s confidence wavered. Then she said determinedly, ‘I’ll make sure she does. She’s had a perfectly horrid time of it since her mother died. Her aunt told me that she had stopped speaking to anyone. Not a word until she spoke to me. I will make her life so wonderful that she will never want to go back.’
‘And how will you do that?’
‘Oh . . . you know . . . for a start she will be living in this lovely house, she shall have beautiful clothes, go to a good school – my old school, perhaps – riding lessons, piano lessons, dancing, elocution; all the things that a girl from a good family takes for granted.’
‘And what if she doesn’t want to ride or dance or go to elocution classes?’
Selma thought for a moment then said, ‘Well, I wouldn’t insist on the riding but I’m sure she will find dancing agreeable and, as for elocution, that I must insist on. Her manner of speech is not as bad as I thought it would be, but now she must learn to talk like one of us.’
Hugh knew it was pointless to argue with Selma. And in any case, although he had not yet admitted it, the idea of adopting this beautiful child was beginning to appeal to him. He stepped away from her and looked slowly round the room.
‘Do you think you may have been a little extravagant buying all these toys?’
Selma looked with satisfaction at the doll’s house, the baby doll with real blond hair and eyes that opened and closed lying in the hand-carved cradle, the toy tea cups set out on a little table and the Dutch doll and the Stieff bear sitting on the matching chairs. She had chosen them in Fenwick’s toy department only the day before and insisted that they must be delivered immediately.
‘Of course I haven’t been extravagant. When I was a child I had many more playthings than this. This is just a start. Oh, Hugh, what fun it will be for Elise and me to go shopping together.’
Hugh’s feeling of unease returned. His wife was like a child herself. Was she ready to be a mother?
Selma placed her hands on his shoulders and raising herself on her toes she kissed him. ‘But now we must leave our little girl and go down for dinner,’ she said. ‘Come quietly, we mustn’t disturb her. We’ll leave the bedside light on in case she awakens and is frightened.’
When the door closed behind the man and the woman Elsie opened her eyes and sat up in bed. She had been awake all the time but had lain with her eyes closed trying to make sense of what they had been saying to each other. She realized that the beautiful lady who had brought her here wanted her to stay and that the man had not been entirely happy about it. That made her anxious.
She looked around the room, so comforting in the gentle glow from the fire. She couldn’t remember ever being as warm and cosy as this. The bedroom she shared with Helen in her old house had a fireplace, but for as long as she could remember there had never been a fire in it. Their mother would warm their nightdresses over a fireguard by the kitchen range and after a wash at the kitchen sink they would pull them on hastily and hurry upstairs. Once in the bed they shared they pulled the bedclothes over themselves as quickly as they could. On cold nights Helen would cuddle her to keep her warm.
Helen . . . Elsie wondered briefly why the lady hadn’t brought Helen here as well. Then she remembered. When they had first arrived at this house she had been asleep, but she had woken up as she was being carried upstairs. In her bewilderment she had called out, ‘Helen – where’s Helen?’
‘Hush, darling,’ the lady had whispered. ‘Helen is going to live with your Aunt Jane, and she told me that she wants me to look after you.’
‘Did she?’
‘Yes, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.’
After that Elsie was taken to a bathroom. At home a tin bath was kept under the kitchen bench and on bath night it was dragged out and placed before the range, then her mother or Helen would fill it up with kettlefuls of hot water. Here the lady simply turned on taps. She had poured pink bath salts into the water from a pretty glass jar with the picture of a rose on the front.
Elsie knew about bath salts. Last Christmas they had all saved their pennies and given them to Helen, who had bought some at the chemist shop on the corner. She had bought them loose in a paper bag and put them in an old jam jar, then put on the lid and tied a pink ribbon round it. That had been their Christmas present to their mother.
‘Look, darling,’ the lady said as she swirled the bath salts around and made pretty pink patterns in the warm water.
Then another lady appeared. She was much older and wore a black dress. At first Elsie thought she might be the lady’s grandmother but decided she couldn’t be when she asked, ‘Do you need any help, madam?’
The conversation that followed had been confusing, mainly because the lady seemed to have muddled up her name with another little girl. A girl whose name was Elise.
‘No, that’s all right, Mrs Reynolds. I shall bathe Elise myself. However, you can take these clothes away.’
‘Do you want them laundered?’
‘No. She won’t need them any more. Elise is going to start a whole new life here.’
‘Very well, madam.’
Elsie thought that Mrs Reynolds pursed her lips and shook her head but her lady didn’t notice.
‘And tell Susan to bring the tray up in about ten minutes’ time.’
After her bath Elsie was dried in a huge soft towel and dressed in a pretty nightdress with a pattern of little rosebuds. The lady looked at her critically and then smiled. ‘A perfect fit,’ she said. ‘I had to guess your size when I ordered your new clothes so I only bought a few essentials. Oh, Elise, darling, we shall have such fun shopping together!’ She paused and then asked, ‘Why are you frowning? Don’t you like your new nightgown?’
‘Oh, yes, I do. It’s lovely. It’s just that my name isn’t Elise, you know. It’s Elsie.’
The lady smiled. ‘I know, my pet, but I decided that as you are going to start a new life you should have a new name and Elise is such a pretty name, don’t you think?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Well, then, Elise it shall be. Now what is it?’
The lady’s smile faded and Elsie found herself desperately wanting to bring it back. ‘It’s just . . . just that I don’t know what to call you.’
‘Ah . . . for the moment you should call me Mrs Partington, but soon I hope you will want to call me something else.’
She gave Elsie no time to question her further. She held her hand and led her along a softly carpeted corridor to the room where she lay now.
‘I know it’s not really bedtime,’ she said, ‘but you have had a tiring day. We’ll sit by the fire and have milk and bread and butter, and would you like some biscuits?’
‘Chocolate biscuits?’
Mrs Partington laughed. ‘Of course. That’s what I promised you, isn’t it?’
A moment later a young woman in a grey dress and a white pinafore appeared with a tray. She laid it on a small table near the fireplace.
‘Eat your fill, sweetheart,’ Mrs Partington said, ‘and then I shall read you a story.’ She gestured towards a small bookcase. ‘Those are my books,’ she said. ‘I’ve had them since I was a child, and now I shall give them to you.’
Elsie looked at the books and for a moment the beautiful room, the comfortable chairs and the warm fire faded as she remembered Helen reading to her by torchlight as they huddled under the bedclothes to keep warm. She remembered that they had been halfway through the latest book that Helen had borrowed from the library. ‘Have you got The Secret Garden?’ she asked.
‘Why yes, I have! Do you like that book?’
‘I do.’
‘How wonderful! That was one of my favourites when I was a little girl. Oh, Elise darling, I see we shall get on famously.’
After she had finished her supper Mrs Partington drew Elsie on to her knee and began to read to her and, although she was interested in the story, the warmth and the confusing events of the day made her yawn.
‘Bed for you, my pet,’ Mrs Partington said. ‘But I promise you I shall go on with the story tomorrow.’
Elsie had been settled amongst the soft pillows and covered with sheets that smelled of lavender, and a silken eiderdown. Mrs Partington leaned over and kissed her brow. ‘Go to sleep, little one,’ she said and Elsie, wanting to please her, had closed her eyes obediently.
She had heard the door open and she thought Mrs Partington was leaving but instead she’d heard another voice. A man’s voice. He and Mrs Partington stood near the bed and talked together then they moved away a little. What she’d heard of the conversation had made Elsie more confused than ever.
Now as she gazed around the room she could hardly believe the pretty lady wanted her to stay here with her. And Helen? What of Helen? Mrs Partington had told her that her sister wanted her to look after her, so it must be all right. Helen would never send her to anywhere where she might be unhappy. She wondered if she would see Helen soon and tell her how lovely this was.
Elsie yawned. She wanted to lie down and go to sleep but there was something missing. Maisie. Maisie the doll that Helen had made for her from a pair of old socks. She had stuffed the socks with scraps of material, embroidered a smiling mouth on the face and sewn on two blue buttons for the eyes. Maisie’s plaited hair had been made from yellow wool and her dress from a piece of blue and white gingham left over from the kitchen curtains. Elsie took Maisie to bed with her every night.
Where was she? Surely Helen wouldn’t have let her leave without Maisie? Elsie got out of bed and looked all around the room. She even looked under the bed but Maisie wasn’t there. She would have to go and ask Mrs Partington. She opened the door hesitantly, stepped out on to the landing and almost bumped into Susan, the young woman who had brought her supper on a tray.
‘Goodness, child, where are you going?’
Elsie looked up at her fearfully to see whether she was cross. She was relieved to discover that Susan was smiling.
‘I’m looking for Maisie.’
Susan frowned. ‘There isn’t a Maisie in this house.’
‘Maisie is my doll. Didn’t she come with me?’
‘No, there was no doll. Just you.’
‘Oh.’ Elsie thought for a moment. ‘Then I’ll have to go home and get her.’
‘Well, not tonight you’re not. Now come along. Let’s put you back to bed. It’s a good job I came up to collect that tray or you’d be wandering about and making people cross.’
‘Would Mrs Partington be cross with me?’
‘No, I don’t suppose so. But Mrs Reynolds would be.’ She saw Elsie’s look of puzzlement and continued, ‘Mrs Reynolds is the housekeeper and she’s an old termagant.’
Elsie remembered Mrs Reynolds. She was the older lady dressed in black who had come into the bathroom. She wasn’t sure what a termagant was but she suspected it wasn’t very nice.
Susan looked around the room. ‘If you want to take a doll to bed with you how about this one?’ She took the baby doll from the cradle then frowned and put it back again. ‘Perhaps not. If it fell out of bed its pretty china face might break. What about Gretel, here?’ She picked up the wooden doll dressed like a little Dutch girl.
Elsie looked at the doll solemnly. ‘She wouldn’t be very cuddly, would she?’
‘I suppose not. Well, how about the teddy bear?’
Elsie nodded.
‘Right. Back into bed with you. I’ll tuck you in.’
Susan built up the fire a little and placed a cinder guard before the fireplace. ‘Night, night,’ she said. Then she picked up the tray and left the room, closing the door after her.
Elsie pulled the teddy bear towards her and discovered that it was not at all cuddly. It might have nice silky fur but its limbs and body were stiff. She pushed it away from her and hoped that it wouldn’t be too long before she was reunited with Maisie.
