Orphans of War (16 page)

‘Do you think trees are real? Does it know when we play in it?’ said Maddy with a sigh.

‘It’s not got a heart, it’s just a tree,’ Gloria quipped, and then wished she hadn’t. She still had to make proper friends again but Maddy ignored her remark.

‘But it’s our special tree. We all talk to it and tell it things. Well, I do…’ she sighed again.

Gloria was flummoxed. Maddy was talking rot again but she must be polite. ‘A tree can’t hear so I suppose it can’t tell tales like Enid, and it don’t talk back,’ she replied.

‘They groan and stretch and rustle. I think it listens to us,’ said Maddy, pushing her specs up her nose to hide her squint.

‘I think you’re daft,’ Gloria said. She’d done it again. Why couldn’t she just keep her gob shut?

‘No I’m not! A tree is a living thing, just like we are. Just think of all the things it must have seen long before we were born.’

‘Like what?’

‘All the birds nesting in it, for a start. People hiding up here, like Robin Hood…’

‘He were never here, were he?’ Gloria knew about him from her history book.

‘I know, but there must’ve been soldiers keeping watch, sweethearts kissing. It must know hundreds of secrets.’

‘You’re mad, you are…it’s just a tree.’ Gloria was getting bored with this.

‘It’s our tree, our Victory Tree. We can always come here and whisper and no one else can see us,’ Maddy went on.

‘What do you want to tell it then?’

‘Don’t know, but I wish my daddy knew I was up here. I wonder if he ever played up here too.’

‘And I wish my mam knew where I was so she could come to stay,’ Gloria added.

‘Let’s make a wish then,’ Maddy smiled, and Gloria felt better and then went and spoiled it by saying, ‘But it’s daft talking to a tree.’

‘Then we could write our wishes down and post them into one of the cracks. Then the tree trunk will hold all our wishes for ever.’ Maddy was not going to give up.

‘That won’t do any good, it’s silly.’

‘No, it’s not. This is a magic tree. It’ll make our dreams come true, you’ll see, but we have to keep it a secret or it won’t work.’

‘Are we still friends, me and you? I’m sorry I got your news wrong, I’ve been in such hot water,’ Gloria blurted as they dangled their legs over the branch. ‘Just you, me and the old tree then?’

Maddy looked at her and nodded. ‘Just you, me and the tree: forever friends.’

Oh, what a relief still to be best friends. It had mattered to Gloria to be shoved out into the cold and not be welcome at the Hall. How then was she to ride on Maddy’s bike, or dress up in the big bedroom with the gold mirror, or be given sweeties from Aunt Julia and do errands for pennies? When she was there it was easy to pretend that she too was a royal princess with servants, not a nobody evacuee from the back streets of Manchester. Forever friends…that was the best news of all.

‘Have you heard the news about Enid?’ Peggy Bickerstaffe ran up to them as they climbed out of their hidy-hole. ‘She’s in big, big trouble.’

They were all ears. ‘This soldier turns up and says
he’s Enid’s cousin and could he take her out for the day on New Year, out for tea. The Rug’s just back from her trip and brought him in for inspection while Enid comes down dressed to the nines with lipstick and stockings, her hair all done grown up, and they went off promising to return before dark…She’s not been seen since, silly cow. Now she’s for it! They sent for the constable and Mrs Plum, and it turns out, when they read her file, she doesn’t have a brother or cousin and it was all a big lie so she could go out dancing in Scarperton. Do you think she’s done it with him?’ Peggy giggled.

‘Done what?’ said Maddy as they stopped by a drift of snow on the lane.

‘Made babies…You do know what I mean?’

Gloria laughed but Maddy was blushing. ‘Of course I do. People mate like animals. Everyone knows that.’

‘No it’s not. They have to kiss first, and dogs don’t do that,’ Peggy informed them.

‘You don’t make babies by kissing,’ Gloria butted in. It was her turn to show them she was no dunce. ‘You have to lie down and jump on the bed.’

‘Do you?’ Maddy looked at her with amazement as if she’d said something brilliant.

‘She’s such a fibber,’ said Peggy. ‘You have to kiss first or it doesn’t work…like on the pictures, Rhett Butler and Scarlett.’ They’d all swooned at the film
Gone With the Wind.

‘But he carries her up to bed…up the stairs,’ Gloria insisted.

‘If anyone carried Enid up the stairs it’d be like
humping a sack of coal,’ Maddy replied and broke out into a grin. It was the first smile Gloria had seen on her face for weeks. ‘We can ask her when she comes back.’

‘She’ll not be back here. I heard Miss Blunt saying she’ll be put in a Home for Wayward Girls after this palaver.’

‘But she hasn’t done anything wrong…just gone for a bit of an adventure.’ Maddy stood throwing wet sticks into the pram for kindling. ‘It’s better than this boring job.’

‘This is war work,’ Peggy argued. ‘Enid’s told lies and ran away, stayed out all night and let him have his way. She’s a tart! No better than a prozzy. They do it for money and go to prison.’

Gloria suddenly felt giddy She saw Elijah Street and the dressed-up women walking up and down in the dark, and men who jumped up and down on Mam’s bed, and the big stone flour jar where she hid her takings. It all made sense like bits of a jigsaw puzzle coming together round a corner piece. If anyone found out her shame here…‘Perhaps he’s done her in and hid her body,’ she suggested. That’s what baddies did in the gangster films. They both looked down at her in amazement.

‘You do talk such bunkum,’ sniffed Peggy.

‘No! Enid could be in danger going off with a stranger like that,’ said Maddy, coming to her defence.

‘He weren’t no stranger. It was one of them soldiers from the battery field. She’s been chatting him up for weeks. He bought her some proper perfume for
Christmas, Bourge…joyce or something from Paris. She’s nearly fifteen, old enough to know what she’s doing, I reckon.’ Peggy was put out that they were ganging up against her.

Maddy looked at Gloria and shook her head. ‘I think she’s really silly to run off with someone she hardly knows. What if he’s cruel and leads her up the garden path? You know, like that
Waterloo Road
film with John Mills, where his wife goes off with a spiv. Mrs Batty saw it and she told Ilse when she brought in the washing. What a scandal! It’s not fair on Aunt Plum.’

‘You would say that. You don’t have to live in this boring dump, miles from anywhere decent. There’s nothing to do but play with soppy kids and go to school. Enid was going to run away with Greg anyway…’

That news shook Gloria but she wasn’t going to show it. ‘Don’t be mean to the Belfields. They’ve got enough to worry about, what with Mr Plum being away and poor Maddy’s terrible news.’

‘It’s all right, Gloria, I can speak for myself,’ Maddy snapped, looking put out. ‘Enid wasn’t thinking about any of that, she’s just being stupid and selfish, worrying everyone like this.’

‘Who are you calling stupid, speccy four eyes?’ Peg shouted. ‘You stuck-up prig!’

‘Shut yer gob, fatso!’ Gloria threw her own brickbats. She was playground queen of calling names. The trick was to get in first.

‘I’ll have you an’ all, carrot top!’ Peggy struck out in her direction but Gloria was too quick and darted
away, leaving the girl floundering and stumbling face down in the snow.

‘Just stop it, both of you! She’s not worth it, Gloria…She’s just jealous that Enid went without her.’

‘Oh, go and boil your heads, the two of you. See if I care.’ Peg waltzed off, leaving them to push and pull the battered pram back down the garden track without losing any sticks. It was like old times chatting together. Gloria was glad they were alone.

‘They say you’re going to a new school?’ she asked, wanting to be sure of her facts this time.

‘When the weather gets better after Easter, I’m going to Palgrave House for a term. It’s the prep school for Scarperton Ladies’ College, but I’m not boarding, thank goodness, except in the winter. Aunt Plum says I can go on the train each day but we have to go on some Saturdays, which is a bore.’

‘I wish I went to boarding school like the stories in my comic,’ Gloria sighed. One minute she was a dunce at her reading and then it sort of clicked. She’d come on so fast that she could now read schoolgirl mags and follow some of the stories in a proper book, but Maddy going away would change everything. ‘You’ll be too busy with schooling to play out with us.’

‘Spec so…lots of prep to do in the evenings.’

‘We are still friends, though?’ Gloria moved in closer.

‘Of course, why not?’

‘Can I tell you a secret? You may not want to be my friend when I tell you,’ Gloria replied. Sharing this with
Maddy was the scariest thing she could think of to prove their true friendship.

Maddy nodded her head and turned towards her.

‘My mam did it for money…you know, like what Peggy was saying. I think that’s why she put us on the train out of the way, so she could earn more.’ There, her fear was spoken, the awful truth laid bare for her friend to see.

‘I’m sure that isn’t true. Your mother looked very upset to me. She must have wanted to stop you having to…I don’t know. It was a brave thing to do. I won’t tell anyone, I promise but I think you’ve got it a bit wrong.’

Gloria could see that Maddy didn’t believe her. What did she know of Elijah Street and all its dirty back alleys? How could she ever imagine such a world? Still, she hadn’t run away from her in disgust.

‘Thanks,’ she replied. ‘And Greg’s got it all wrong saying you’ll become a right snob when you leave Sowerthwaite.’

Maddy froze on the spot, looking at her in surprise. ‘How dare he? What does he know? Gregory Byrne is talking out of his bottom.’

‘Can I tell him you said that?’ Gloria smiled.

‘Tell him what you like,’ Maddy sniffed. ‘No, just tell him he likes the smell of his own farts!’

‘Maddy! That’s so rude,’ Gloria giggled with relief as they both laughed all the way back down the lane in time for tea and pikelets at the Vic.

How dare Greg Byrne say she’d be a snob! Gloria’s words rankled all the way home. In the end Maddy
skipped tea and pikelets by the fire and refused to speak to him when he came in from the garage. The Old Vic wasn’t her home and neither was Brooklyn Hall. Sometimes she felt like a barrage balloon let loose from its moorings, blown this way and that by this blasted war, not belonging anywhere. Nor could she understand why there was no news of the sinking in the newspapers; not in Uncle Algie’s
Telegraph
or Miss Blunt’s
Yorkshire Post.

Bad news was hidden away as if it had never happened. Miss Blunt’s sister had lost her house in Coventry and was living in lodgings. She said the whole city was just rubble and no one was allowed near, but there was nothing in the paper about it. There were terrible pictures about the Great Fire of London and how St Paul’s was saved. Uncle Algie kept waving his paper about furiously but she couldn’t look. She could still smell the flames and hear the screams when she shut her eyes. Nothing about the sunken ship either. It made her feel that Mummy and Daddy weren’t important enough to be mentioned.

If she took the short cut across the fields, she could stop off and climb the icy branches of the Victory Tree again. It was cold and slippy up the rope but the snow had melted from the branches and she could just see the new buds swollen, ready for spring.

Would it really be warm again? Would flowers bloom and baby lambs fill the fields? Would the pain in her tummy ever go away? Up in the branches on the platform Maddy hugged her knees and stared out at the bleak grey fields, high up away from the smoke and
soot of the chimneys. This was her home, high up out of sight. Everything was all muddled up in her head like Aunt Julia’s tangled wool.

Gloria so desperately wanted to be her friend but Maddy wasn’t sure she meant what she’d said to her about being ‘forever friends’. Aunt Plum was trying to be kind but was so busy all the time, and now with Enid running away and Uncle Gerald being in danger…Grandma was trying her best to be interested in her school work as she helped her with her knitting stitches and asked her to fetch and carry spectacles and hot-water bottles for her bad back. Sometimes she just wanted to be alone up here but then she felt so lonely. She was nobody’s child now.

There was an album of portraits of Daddy as a little boy in lacy dresses and knickerbockers, in school uniform with Uncle Julian, looking very important, and in soldier’s uniform. Grandma sniffed on her hanky as she turned the pages.

‘You don’t expect to outlive your children,’ she sighed.

Why couldn’t she have done all this before Daddy left? Did you have to be dead before anyone said anything nice about you, Maddy thought. Suddenly Daddy was Grandma’s long-lost beloved son and a hero, and Maddy didn’t recognise him at all.

When she pictured Daddy in her head she saw him pounding the piano with gusto, smiling up as Mummy sang, sucking on his brown pipe as he read her a story before they left for the theatre, digging up the bowling green, cussing and swearing under his breath in his
old corduroys and the jumper with the elbows frayed into a big hole, waving goodbye through the train window, hat in hand until the train was well out of her sight. She could never imagine him living here.