Angela was sitting in her office on Saturday morning when the phone rang. Answering, she heard her father’s voice. ‘Hello, Daddy, how are you?’
There was a slight hesitation, then, ‘I’m all right. I was just ringing to ask if you were still coming home for Christmas.’ Something in the way he spoke sounded like a plea to Angela and her heart caught. He’d sounded unlike himself … vulnerable.
‘Yes, I’m coming down Christmas Eve after the carol service – and I’ll stay until the afternoon of Boxing Day.’
‘Good …’ Was that relief in his voice? ‘We shall both be pleased to see you, my love. Your mother has been planning a special lunch. I mustn’t tell you, because it is a surprise – but I didn’t want her to go to all that trouble and then be disappointed.’
‘No, I shan’t disappoint her. I’m looking forward to it.’
‘So am I,’ he said. ‘Bye for now, love.’
‘Are you all right?’ She was anxious, because instinct was telling her he was keeping something back. ‘Is anything wrong, Dad?’
‘No, not at all, never better,’ he affirmed and yet she sensed that it was an effort, his hearty voice put on to reassure her.
Angela replaced her receiver, slightly uneasy. Even if something was wrong, her father wouldn’t tell her on the phone. It made her frown, because he was usually so cheerful. She was about to ring him back when her phone rang once more.
She picked it up and relaxed as she heard Mark’s voice. He hadn’t rung her since they went to the theatre, for which he apologised now.
‘I’ve had such a lot on, a rush of private patients on top of my hospital work. I think this time of year always brings on bouts of depression,’ he said and laughed deprecatingly at himself. ‘Do you have time for dinner one evening soon – next Monday?’
‘I’d love to, Mark – that’s the 15th isn’t it? After that things will start to get pretty hectic here with all the preparations for Christmas. I have a lot to tell you. We’ve found Billy – you remember the lad who went missing? He was forced to work for his rogue of a brother and got mixed up in that fire at the boot factory. But I’ll tell you on Monday.’
‘Yes, you do that,’ he said. ‘By the way, are you going home for Christmas?’
‘Yes. I thought I’d go down on Christmas Eve, after the party here.’
‘Good. I’m going then so I’ll drive you – if you’d like?’
‘Lovely. I shall look forward to it – and I’ll see you on Monday.’
Angela smiled as she replaced the receiver. Mark was such a good friend and she missed him when they didn’t meet for a while.
She sat staring into space for a few minutes, thinking about the past year or so during which she’d gradually been learning to live with her grief. John’s death had left a gaping hole in her life and an ache in her heart she sometimes thought would never leave her – and yet since she’d come here Angela had begun to feel things more sharply. She thought about the children she saw every day, the new arrivals looking frightened and pale when she and Nan admitted them, and the gradual blooming of roses in their cheeks as good food and security helped them recover from terrible experiences. Most of them had been half-starving; they had never been as well fed in their lives as they were here – and Angela was determined they would grow up in a place that would make them smile when they were older and looked back.
The new building was still a shambles. Sometimes the noise of hammering penetrated Angela’s office and she felt like asking them to stop for a while, but the sooner the new dorms were ready the better. Mark had taken her ideas to the Board and they had agreed to keep the size of the rooms down to six pupils, making two for the boys and three for the girls rather than two huge ones. Mark had told her some of the Board had grumbled about the extra running costs it might incur, but Angela had got her way. That was one big tick on her list but she had a long way to go. The next step was to discuss the idea of team leaders with Sister Beatrice …
It was a pity they’d had words over Billy Baggins and Mary Ellen again. Particularly the girl. Angela sighed and tried not to think about the child’s woebegone face. She pulled on her thick coat and picked up her bag, preparing to leave.
Saturdays were actually her time off, and she usually spent the morning shopping and then helped out at St Saviour’s in the afternoons. This morning she intended to spend her time buying Christmas gifts for her parents, the staff at the home and small things to put on the tree for the children.
Mark Adderbury would be putting up the tree one day the following week and she knew he intended to give out gifts on Christmas Eve at the party. The children had heard whispers and were growing very excited, but Angela could not forget the look of misery in one child’s eyes because she was to be denied something that meant more to her than anything else.
It was so cruel of Sister Beatrice to deny Mary Ellen this chance, which might never come again, during her childhood anyway. Angela had wangled the tickets from a friend this year, but she might not be able to do it again next year – and if she wasn’t here … her thoughts came to an abrupt end, because she had to be sensible. She couldn’t overrule Sister Beatrice. Mary Ellen could not go to the pantomime and that was the end of it, but … supposing another treat was substituted?
The idea came to Angela as she was passing a cinema showing a Walt Disney cartoon. The pictures of Mickey Mouse and Bambi posted in glass cases outside made her linger, and temptation raised its ugly head. Sister hadn’t said the child could not have any treats, just that she could not go to the pantomime with the others. Supposing Angela took her to the Disney film instead and then to tea at Lyons’ Corner House?
She ought not to do it. Angela knew that, because it would be flinging Sister’s authority in her face, not an actual flaunting of her wishes but a defiant action that would make her furious … but with Angela rather than Mary Ellen.
Angela knew she was taking a great risk but for some reason Mary Ellen had touched her heart, making her want to protect and care for the vulnerable child. Many of the children at the home were sad cases, but none of the others seemed to be in trouble all the time.
On the bus back to St Saviour’s, Angela still hadn’t made up her mind to do it, because she knew that it would be wrong to flout Sister’s wishes. She was punishing Mary Ellen for lying to her and the child had been wrong, but her reasons were unselfish and loyal and Angela felt that Sister could have relented this time.
She went up to her room and placed the parcels on the bed ready for wrapping later. Angela seldom went anywhere in the evenings, preferring to stay at home and listen to a concert or a play on the wireless or read a book. If she had her own flat she could have her gramophone and her baby grand piano sent up from the country, which would provide her with endless entertainment, also more of her clothes, books and other treasures, which she missed. She might feel as if she had a home again then, but so far she hadn’t found a flat she liked well enough to take on a lease, perhaps because she was so uncertain about staying at St Saviour’s. Had she got on better with Sister Beatrice the job would have suited her – better than any other she could think of. She would be sorry if she had to leave, but there were other charities, other places she might find work with children if she tried. Yet she liked it here, was making friends …
And then there was Mark Adderbury. Angela suspected that Mark thought of her as more than a friend, but she wasn’t ready to contemplate a relationship with a man yet: far from it. Much as she enjoyed their time together, Angela was still too raw inside, too much in love with John to think of … no, she couldn’t imagine being another man’s lover or wife.
‘John, my love …’ A wave of longing overtook her as she remembered the first time they’d met at that Young Farmers’ ball. He’d looked so handsome in his dark suit and white shirt, his silvery blond hair waving back from his forehead, and his disconcertingly blue eyes. ‘I loved you so very much. So much …’
John had swept her off her feet, claiming every dance with her, refusing to give her up to anyone and then taking her off to walk by the river. She remembered removing her shoes, sitting on the edge of a grassy bank and dangling her feet in the cool water. He’d kissed her and the feeling was so heady and sweet that Angela had known instantly this was different. He was the one she’d waited for all her life.
She’d been a virgin when he married her and carried her off to the sea for a brief honeymoon. John’s lovemaking had been all that she’d dreamed of, making her come to life, as if she’d been a sleeping princess in her dark tower until that moment – but her happiness had lasted such a short time. John had only weeks of training before he was sent abroad; twice he’d returned to her on a brief leave and then … the telegram that told her he wouldn’t come home again.
No, she couldn’t think about that or she would let in all the grief and pain that she’d conquered. She treasured her short marriage and she could not think of giving herself or her heart to another man. Mark was a good friend, a wonderful listener, and she was eternally grateful to him for all he’d done for her – but she didn’t want more than friendship from him or anyone else.
Dismissing Mark from her thoughts, she returned to the problem of Mary Ellen. Billy wasn’t going to the pantomime either, but he couldn’t have gone anyway, because his cold had turned worse and he’d been running a fever. Sister Beatrice would no doubt have banned him if he’d been well, because she would have had no choice in the circumstances. Billy was confined to the isolation ward until he got better, but Mary Ellen would be alone while all the others went off to the theatre.
Angela left her room and went in search of Sally, to make sure she had the tickets and money necessary for the children’s treat. She and Nurse Anna, Nan and Jean, one of the newer carers, were getting ready to assemble the children ready for the pantomime.
‘Are you coming with us?’ Sally asked, but Angela shook her head.
‘I’m sorry. I can’t manage it,’ she said. ‘You can cope without me, can’t you?’
‘Cook asked if there was a spare ticket. If you’re not going, could she have yours?’
‘Of course.’ Angela hunted in her jacket pocket. ‘Yes, here it is. You’ve got all the others?’
‘Yes. And the five pounds you gave us for ice creams and sweets.’
‘Good.’ Angela smiled at her. ‘It is so kind of you all to give up your time off to take the children.’
‘We’re all looking forward to it,’ Anna said. ‘Come along, Michael … Ruth, put your coat on, all of you must wear a coat. Hats for the girls and caps for the boys, please.’ She mustered the crowd of excited children into some sort of order, checking that everyone had gloves, hats and scarves to combat the bitter weather.
Angela left the girls to it. She need not worry that they would find so many children difficult to manage, because they all adored Nan and did whatever she told them. With Cook there would be five of them to make sure the children didn’t get lost or run across the road in their excitement.
It was in Angela’s mind to look for Mary Ellen. She tried the isolation ward first, thinking the girl might be with Billy, but he was sound asleep, having been dosed with medicine for his sore throat and aching limbs, and Nurse Michelle said she hadn’t seen the girl since first thing that morning when she’d come to ask if her friend was any better.
‘I told her not to come in, because we don’t want her catching it and being ill for Christmas.’
‘No,’ Angela agreed and walked away, feeling anxious.
Mary Ellen wasn’t in the schoolroom, which was quiet and abandoned. She went up to the dorms but Mary Ellen wasn’t there either and the fear built inside her. Could she have gone up to the attics to hide? Surely she couldn’t get in now, because Sister Beatrice had the key safe in her desk, but she ought to look.
Mary Ellen was sitting on the back stairs, her shoulders hunched and her head bent. Angela knew she was crying and in that moment her anger became a fiery flame that roared in her head. She knew she was going to burn her boats and defy Sister Beatrice when the child raised her head and she saw the tears trickling on her cheeks, and the utter grief in her eyes. It must seem to Mary Ellen that they were all against her and that she had nothing to look forward to. All the letters for the children came first to Angela’s office and she passed them on to Nan, who gave them to the children after first making sure there was nothing upsetting in them. She knew that Mary Ellen had not received so much as a postcard from her sister for some weeks. Either Rose must be exceptionally busy or there was another reason for the lack of communication of any kind. Angela couldn’t understand her, because surely she could have walked here once every week or so, after she left the London hospital in the evenings.
The child had so little to look forward to anyway: her mother in a sanatorium, her sister too busy to visit often, her best friend lying sick in his bed – and all the other children off to the pantomime. It just wasn’t fair or right and Angela wouldn’t put up with it.
‘Here, wipe your face,’ she said and handed Mary Ellen a clean handkerchief. ‘And then you can put your coat on. I’m taking you out.’
‘To the pantomime?’ Mary Ellen’s face lit up like a candle.
‘No, I cannot disobey Sister’s instructions; she forbade us to take you there – but I can take you somewhere else.’ She held out her hand, holding the child’s gently in her own. ‘Tell me, Mary Ellen, have you ever been to the cinema?’
‘No, miss. That’s where they have the pictures, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, and there’s a Walt Disney cartoon programme today. If we hurry, we shall just be there in time for the start …’
For Angela her abiding memory of that Christmas period would always be Mary Ellen’s face as they took their seats in the darkened cinema and the screen suddenly lit up. For a start there was a short cartoon of Mickey Mouse followed by Donald Duck, and then an interval, during which Angela bought them both an ice cream in a little tub with a wooden spoon, from the girl who came round with her tray. Then the lights dimmed again and the big feature began.
Disney’s film about the young fawn losing its mother had come out in the war years and was so popular that it did the rounds of the cinema every few months, especially on school holidays and Christmas. Of course Mary Ellen had never seen it. She’d once seen cartoons reflected on a white screen at her local church hall, but that was nothing compared to this, and her face throughout was a picture of wonder and delight. She shed a few tears at Bambi’s plight but in the end she was smiling and happy, sitting absolutely still and staring at the screen until the last credits had finished.
‘Did you enjoy that?’ Angela asked, even though she knew the answer.
Mary Ellen nodded, too bewitched by all she’d seen to speak, and it was not until they were eating their tea at Lyons that the excitement came bubbling out of her and she kept asking Angela if she seen Thumper show Bambi how to do this or that … and then, all of a sudden, she went silent.
‘Thank you for bringing me, miss,’ she said. ‘It was wonderful. I wish Billy had seen it too, but I shall tell him all about it when he feels better.’
‘I’m sorry you didn’t get to the pantomime.’
‘I liked this even better,’ Mary Ellen assured her. ‘Nothing could be as lovely as Bambi, miss. I shall never ever forget it.’
Angela had to agree with her. Seeing it through the eyes of a child had made her realise what a lovely film it was, and she knew she would never forget this afternoon – even if it meant she had to leave St Saviour’s.
‘I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Perhaps we might go another day to see something else, not yet … but one day.’
She couldn’t promise anything definite, because her time at the home might be over soon enough. If Sister Beatrice was as angry as she had every right to be, Angela might be forced to resign.
Angela told Mary Ellen to join the other children in the schoolroom before supper. Seeing her run off happily, she felt content and well rewarded for what she’d done, even though she knew that her next interview with Sister Beatrice might be very unpleasant. She went up to her office and removed her outer coat, sitting down at her desk and taking a list from her desk drawer.
She was running her finger down the items when the door opened abruptly and Sister Beatrice walked in. The look on her face was grim and Angela knew at once that the Warden had discovered what she’d done – and she was furious. Rising to her feet, Angela prepared to meet the onslaught she knew must be coming.
‘You’re angry,’ she said.
‘I believe I have every right to be angry.’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Angela agreed. ‘I didn’t override your instructions – but I didn’t see why I shouldn’t take the child out myself.’
‘No one is permitted to take the children out unless I am aware of it. Surely you know the rules? I have been looking for her. I was afraid she had run away.’
‘No, Mary Ellen wouldn’t do that. She was sitting on the back stairs crying when I found her. I took her to a Disney film and then to Lyons for tea. Please do not punish Mary Ellen. I am the one who broke the rules, not her.’
‘I am well aware of that. I dare say you think I am cruel and stubborn, making stupid rules and expecting them to be obeyed? This is a home for disturbed children, Mrs Morton, and it has to have rules. If one child is allowed to get away with flouting them, they will all think they can do the same. I had to make an example of her whether I liked it or not. Had you any sense of loyalty to me, you would have understood that and, had you asked, I would have allowed you to take her to the cinema another day. To take her out on the very day I had punished her was to show everyone that you think I am a crass fool who gives out punishments for the pleasure of it …’
‘I didn’t mean it like that. I just couldn’t bear to see her in such distress.’
‘Do you imagine I enjoy punishing her? She is a taking little thing – and that friend of hers is a cheeky devil but I mean him no harm. I am not an ogre, and I do understand how children suffer. Good grief, I’ve seen enough of it. Being denied a trip to the pantomime is nothing compared to the beatings many children receive … but you are so certain you know best, aren’t you?’
Sister Beatrice was almost shouting, but she broke off and turned away, her back towards Angela, shoulders heaving and clearly in distress.
Angela blinked, stunned by Sister’s sudden outburst. For a moment she was silent, then, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise how it would seem. I thought only of the child’s disappointment. I knew I was wrong, and if you want me to resign, I shall do so when it is convenient to the Board.’
‘I think one of us may have to go. I leave it to your conscience to decide which of us it should be.’
‘Obviously it has to be me. I’d like to see the setting up of the new wing finished …’
‘We shall carry on as usual until after Christmas. You must send your resignation letter to the Board; they asked you to take up the position against my better judgement …’
Angela stared at the door as Sister went out and closed it. A swathe of bitter regret went through her. Perhaps if she’d tried a little harder to understand the older woman … but it might not have made a difference. Sister Beatrice hadn’t wanted her here.
It was going to wrench the heart out of her to leave. She’d been feeling so empty when she came here, the space in her heart where John had been open and ready for invasion. Mary Ellen and, to a lesser extent, Billy, had crept in and she had wanted to make the girl happy, to fill her own life with the things that might have been hers had John lived. Because she would have welcomed children; a career was nothing beside the joy that a child could bring.
Now she would have to make a new life for herself, start over again. Angela didn’t think she wanted to go home to her parents’ house. The first thing was probably to find herself an apartment and then, when she was settled, she could look for a new job; something working with children who needed her.