The Runaway Family (44 page)

Mavis was glad to see them go. She wanted them out of the way when Jimmy came back downstairs. She could hear him moving about in the bedroom and wondered what he was doing, but even as she got up to find out, she heard his footsteps on the stairs.

‘I’m going out,’ he said as he met her in the hallway.

‘What about your tea?’ she ventured as he opened the front door.

‘I’ll have it when I come in.’

When he had gone, she went upstairs to her room. The wardrobe door stood open and half her clothes had been pulled out and dumped on the bed. His were still in his case, but Mavis realized that she was expected to hang his up for him in the space he’d made, and she set about doing so, sorting and rehanging her own meagre wardrobe to accommodate his.

While she was busy upstairs, Rita came in from the street. She had seen Jimmy leave as she and Maggie had been trying to teach Rosie to skip.

‘Back in a min,’ she’d said and leaving Rosie with Maggie, she’d darted back into the house. She could hear Mum upstairs so she crept into the kitchen. Quickly she opened the drawer of the dresser, and there he was. Her daddy, smiling out through the cracked glass of his frame. She’d discovered the photo some days earlier, when looking in the drawer for a pencil. Quickly Rita pulled the frame open and slid Daddy out from under the glass. She looked round for somewhere to hide him. She could still hear Mum moving about upstairs, so she couldn’t risk taking him up there. There was nowhere in the hall to hide him, so she opened the door to the front room. They never used the front room, well, only at Christmas when Gran came, so he wouldn’t be found in there. She picked up the cushion from what had been her daddy’s armchair and slid the photo inside its cover. Then she put the cushion back and slipped out into the street again. Daddy was safe now. She didn’t want another dad; her daddy would always be her daddy. If Uncle Jimmy moved into the house, well, let him, but he would never, ever, be her dad.

A few weeks later there was a loud hammering on the front door and Mavis, opening it, was surprised to find her mother on the doorstep.

‘How did that child get that cut on her forehead?’ demanded Lily. ‘How come Reet’s got a black eye?’

‘She… she fell off her stool last night,’ faltered Mavis. ‘She hit her face on the gas stove.’

‘Hit her face on the gas stove,’ echoed Lily scornfully. ‘I don’t believe you. There’s much more to it than that.’

‘She fell off her stool…’ Mavis began again.

‘Knocked off it more like,’ asserted Lily. ‘By that Jimmy, I bet. You shouldn’t have him in the house, Mavis. I’ve told you before. He’s bad news. He knocks you about—’

‘No! No, Mum,’ Mavis burst out. ‘Who said that? Has that Rita—’

‘He knocks you about,’ repeated Lily, ignoring her interruption, ‘an’ he knocks the girls about, and whatever you say, he’s going to go on doing it. Men like him always go on doing it.’

‘Mum, it wasn’t like that. Reet fell off her stool. You know what she’s like. She was fidgeting… she’s always fidgeting, you know she is. An’ she fell off and hit her face, poor little kid.’ Mavis’s eyes challenged her mother to disbelieve her and Lily looked a little less certain.

‘That’s what she said—’ began Lily.

‘Because that’s what happened, Mum. Did you see her on the way to school?’

‘Yes, they were just going in.’

‘Look, Mum, I was just leaving. I got to be at Mrs Robinson’s in twenty minutes. Walk with me to the bus, eh? I must go or I’ll be late.’ She edged her mother towards the front door, and Lily allowed herself to be eased out of the house and into the street. Mavis closed the door behind her and, taking her mother firmly by the arm, began walking towards the bus stop.

‘Sorry, Mum,’ she said, ‘but I mustn’t be late. The cleaning takes me a bit longer these days and I don’t want Mrs Robinson to turn me off. I was going to come and see you when I’d finished. Jimmy’s going to the registry office today to get the wedding sorted. You have to put your name on a list for three weeks or something… not sure quite what, but Jimmy knows and he’s going to do it in his dinnertime.’

‘You really want to marry him, Mavis?’ asked Lily, trying to walk more slowly. She wanted to talk to Mavis, to have things out with her, but knew that here in the street wasn’t the place.

‘Yes, I do,’ Mavis asserted. ‘He’ll make a great dad.’

‘Oh, Mavis, you know—’

‘Sorry, Mum, here’s my bus.’ Mavis stuck her hand out to hail the bus and scrambled aboard as soon as it stopped. She turned back, looking at her mother still standing on the pavement. ‘I’ll come in and see you tomorrow, Mum. Tell you the wedding date and that.’

The bus began to draw away, and Mavis moved inside, waving to her mother through the window.

Lily watched her go with distinct misgivings. She remained unconvinced that Rita had simply fallen off her stool. No, Jimmy Randall had something to do with it. Jimmy Randall was not good news, not good news at all.

Available now!

As the orchestrated persecution of the Jews intensified in the late 1930s, more than ten thousand unaccompanied Jewish children were brought to England from Germany, Austria, Poland and Czechoslovakia, between December 1938 and August 1939. Sent by parents, desperate to save them from the Nazis’ “Final Solution”, children aged from three months to seventeen years old travelled on trains that carried them across Europe and then over the sea to England. When they arrived they were fostered in families all over the country. Jewish, Methodist, Quaker, Catholic and Protestant families opened their homes to the children so brutally taken from their own families. For some no foster parents could be found and these were housed in hostels or went to boarding schools; but all had escaped the Nazi terror.

Some were lucky, and their parents managed to escape as well, so they were reunited; others found remnants of family who had survived the death camps after the war, but most of them never saw, again, the parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters they had left behind.

The strength of the love and courage of the parents who sent their children away is hard to imagine… their hearts were broken, but their children were saved.

Germany 1937: Fear and betrayal stalk the streets. People disappear. Persecution of the Jews has become a national pastime.

When Ruth Friedman’s husband is arrested by the SS, she is left to fend for herself and her four children. She alone stands as their shield against the Nazis. But where can she go? Where will her family be safe?

Ruth must overcome the indifference, hatred and cruelty that surrounds her as she and her family race to escape the advancing Nazi army’s final solution…

T
HE
L
OST
S
OLDIER

(previously published as
The Ashgrove
)

“A powerful and moving account of the brutality of war itself.”

Tony Benn

“This book bears powerful witness to a grave injustice.”

Martin Bell

“Diney Costeloe has tackled an important subject. We should never forget this terrible injustice.”

John Humphrys

T
HE
S
ISTERS
OF
S
T
. C
ROIX

(previously published as
Death’s Dark Vale
)

“A treat from the very first page. I could not put it down!”

Historical Novel Society

“A compelling tale beautifully written.”

George Baker

“A vivid insight into the work of the French Resistance under the German occupation.”

Betty Rowlands

D
INEY
C
OSTELOE
published several successful sagas in the 1980s, before family life intervened. She lives in Somerset.

Visit her website:
dineycosteloe.co.uk

Or follow her on Twitter:
@Dineycost

The Throwaway Children

Gritty, heartrending and unputdownable – the story of two sisters sent first to an English, then an Australian orphanage in the aftermath of World War 2.

Rita and Rosie Stevens are only nine and five years old when their widowed mother marries a violent bully called Jimmy Randall and has a baby boy by him. Under pressure from her new husband, she is persuaded to send the girls to an orphanage – not knowing that the papers she has signed will entitle them to do what they like with the children.

And it is not long before the powers that be decide to send a consignment of orphans to their sister institution in Australia. Among them – without their family’s consent or knowledge – are Rita and Rosie, the throwaway children.

The Throwaway Children
is available
here
.

The Lost Soldier

In 1921, eight ash trees were planted in the Dorset village of Charlton Ambrose as a timeless memorial to the men killed in World War One. Overnight a ninth appeared, marked only as for’the unknown soldier’.

But now the village’s ashgrove is under threat from developers.