War Orphans (19 page)

Seb swallowed the remnants of anger he'd had towards the girl. By the sound of it the stepmother was more deserving of his ire. ‘Does she lock you in that coalhouse very often?'

Joanna nodded.

He hesitated as he digested the terrible truth. ‘Good job I was around then, weren't it, or the poor little chap would have been starving.' His voice was steady and although gruff there was kindness in his words.

Joanna hung her head as unbidden tears pricked her eyes. ‘I'm sorry, mister, but when she caught me with the pilchards . . .'

‘Pilchards?'

It all came out in a rush, her not finding anything much for Harry to eat except for a tin of pilchards.

‘She don't like them. She bought them for my dad to give him when he next comes home on leave. They were at the back of the larder and I thought . . .'

She went on to tell him everything.

Seb listened, thinking her very articulate for a young child. At the same time pity clenched his stomach right until she finally finished her tale.

‘Are you going home for your lunch?' he asked her.

She looked at him blankly.

‘Your dinner,' he said to her. ‘I suppose you call it your dinner.'

Joanna shrugged. ‘I suppose.'

‘You suppose? What's that supposed to mean?'

‘I don't want to go home for dinner. I forgot to make sure the fire stayed in this morning. If it goes out she'll have to do it herself. She'll be angry.'

The man with the white hair and blue eyes stabbed his shovel into the earth and straightened.

‘Then we better see what I've got in my coat. Cheese sandwiches I think. Might even have a slice of pork pie if we're lucky. Come on. Let's see what we've got.'

Joanna followed his broad, slow-moving form into the shed, where he picked up his coat and proceeded to delve into the copious pockets.

He brought out sandwiches and other things wrapped in greaseproof paper, plus some apples and a Thermos flask. As he placed things on the table where he also planted and transplanted seeds, Harry jumped up and down around his legs.

‘You wait your turn,' he said, looking down at him.

Harry took no notice, continuing to dance up and down on all four legs.

‘I've got him some bacon bones,' said Joanna. ‘He's already ate a ham bone and some biscuits.'

‘That seems like a good idea to me,' said the old man.

Harry began happily munching on the bacon bones while the old man poured milky tea and offered Joanna a sandwich.

Before seating himself on the corner of the table, he upturned a bucket and folded a sack to make a cushion so Joanna would have somewhere to sit.

‘Now you sit there and don't move until you've eaten it all up.'

Joanna did as she was told. ‘Thanks, mister.'

‘Seb. You can call me Seb. Now eat up and once you've done that and got a warm drink down you, you can tell me all about yourself and young Harry here.'

The sandwich of cheese and pickle went down very well indeed. So did the piece of pork pie and the slice of apple cake he gave her.

‘Aren't you having any?' she asked him.

He smiled. ‘I had a big breakfast and, anyway, I'm not growing any longer. You still are and so is Harry.'

Once she had eaten all he gave her, she told him that on the day she found Harry she had been in tears because her stepmother had got rid of her cat.

‘The man who came tried to tell me that she was going to a better place. I thought he meant in the country but then I found out that she would be put to sleep . . .' She paused, alarm in her eyes. ‘They don't really mean sleep, do they? They mean Lottie was killed.' Her bottom lip quivered.

Seb shook his head. ‘It's a rum do and that's for sure,' he muttered, unsure what to say that could possibly make her feel any better. ‘Still, look at it this way. If you hadn't been crying over Lottie, you wouldn't have gone down to the brook and found Harry. He'd be dead along with his brothers and sisters, so there was some good came out of that bad, wasn't there.'

‘My friend Paul found the dead puppies and buried them. I didn't tell him about Harry.' She frowned. ‘I don't want to tell anyone about him.' She looked up suddenly. ‘You won't tell anyone, will you?'

‘Cross my heart,' he said, making the sign over his chest.

Satisfied he was telling the truth, she happily passed the last of her pork pie to Harry, who gulped it down quickly. Then she sat up straight as a dire thought came to her. ‘I have to get him something for his supper. The bones won't be enough, but the shops are closed.'

Seb's heart was touched by the concern in her eyes. ‘Tell you what, how would it be if I brought something from home for him tonight?'

It did his heart good to see Joanna's face light up the way it did.

‘Could you, mister?' Her face was a picture of grateful innocence.

‘Yep. I can do that,' he said, his joints cracking as he got to his feet. ‘And stop calling me “mister”. It's Seb. Seb Hadley. All right?'

Joanna nodded emphatically. She had been a little afraid of this man, but then once he'd given her food and she'd learned he'd been feeding Harry when she hadn't been able to come, her doubts retreated.

There was only one thing that continued to worry her.

‘Is this your shed? For ever?'

Seb gazed around him at the stout wooden frame, the mismatched bits of wood that formed the walls. ‘That it is. I built this myself. Me and my Gracie that is.'

Joanna presumed he was speaking of his wife. ‘Do we have to go? I mean, can Harry live here?'

He looked at her in amazement. ‘Did I say you had to go?'

She shook her head. ‘Not so much me. I mean Harry. Do you mind him living here?'

‘I just said I don't. Harry can stay here. Nobody else lives here do they?'

‘No.'

‘Still,' said Seb as he folded up the newspaper so it would be suitable for reusing. ‘I reckon Harry needs to get out and about a bit more. He can't stay in here for ever now, can he.'

Joanna thought about it. ‘I suppose not. I suppose I'll have to start taking him for walks.'

‘I suppose you will.'

Joanna bit her bottom lip as she mulled over how best to take the puppy for a walk without him running away.

‘What are you thinking?' asked Seb, one bushy eyebrow rising higher than the other in a quizzical manner.

‘I need some string for a lead.'

Seb eyed her thoughtfully. ‘You'll need something. A collar too, no doubt. Now I'd better get on. I've got tools to clean. You stay here and play with Harry while I get that done. Where do you live?'

‘The Vale. One hundred and sixteen.'

‘Right. Well soon as I'm done I'll walk you home. It'll be getting dark soon.'

‘I can find my own way home!' Joanna's outburst was sudden and caused Seb to look up from scraping the last clod of mud from his spade before smearing it with oil.

Seb's eyes softened. Poor little kid. Mother dead, father off to war and her left with a stepmother who had no time for her. Seb decided it would not be wise to push the issue.

‘All right then. How about I walk with you as far as the bottom of The Vale?'

He saw her hesitation and knew that although she would relish the company she was too frightened to let him come with her. However, he did have an ace up his sleeve. ‘Thing is I'll be going into that shed every day and if Harry was sick or something, I wouldn't know how to let you know so I need to know where you live.'

‘I told you. It's number one hundred and sixteen.'

‘All right then. I know where you live and nobody is going to see me walk with you as far as the bottom of the hill. Would that be all right?'

She agreed with a shy smile.

Dusk was falling by the time he left her at the bottom of The Vale. For a moment he watched her walk away, a waif-like form in worn-out clothes. She'd been as bouncy as a beach ball with Harry. Now, on her way home to a doubtful welcome, she dragged her legs. It didn't take a genius to know that she didn't want to go home.

As he made his own way home, he thought on this woman who was treating a child so badly. It wasn't until he felt a
toothache coming on that he realised just how firmly he'd been clenching his teeth. The damned woman! No matter that Joanna had refused to let him anywhere near where she lived, he was overcome with the urge to know what her stepmother was really like. At some point he would achieve this but wouldn't let Joanna know of his plans. He was also unsure of what his daughter might say. Nevertheless, it was what he would do.

Christmas morning, two weeks later

Joanna shivered as she made her way down the stairs. Halfway down she heard the sound of snoring coming from her stepmother's bedroom. She stopped and looked up, waiting for her stepmother to fling back the door and cuff her ear just because she had a headache.

Nothing happened. The door remained shut and the snoring continued, so Joanna carried on. Even though it was Christmas Day, she still had a fire to light, though first she would get herself some breakfast.

The moment she pushed the living-room door open, her nose was assailed with the stench of stale food and drink. An empty bottle of sherry sat in the middle of the table surrounded by dirty plates. Remembering how it had tasted, she wrinkled her nose. The smell was bad enough. The taste was even worse and it made you sleep, and had given her a headache.

There were two plates on the table, both streaked with remains of the cottage pie their next door neighbour had provided for Christmas dinner. Now there would be nothing. Joanna's eyes filled with tears. She wasn't expecting to receive a Christmas present but knew she would get a beating if she didn't clear the table, wash up and put everything away.

Having to do her chores as usual wasn't her main concern. She had hoped to save a little of her own portion of cottage pie for Harry. Now she would have to find something else.

She couldn't even guess at the identity of the person who had eaten her portion of Mrs Allen's welcome gift, but guessed it was a man. Her stepmother didn't have any close female friends.

Never mind what her stepmother did, Joanna's first priority was to get to Harry as fast as she could. Before washing the dishes she scraped the remains of the cottage pie from the oven dish into a sheet of clean newspaper. It wasn't much but hopefully it would keep the little dog going.

A quick rummage through the pig bin and she found some pieces of bacon fat and rind. It was illegal to throw such things away, but her stepmother was too lazy to render them down for cooking. She didn't cook that much anyway. Elspeth ate in the factory canteen, taking the view that as she worked all day she deserved to be well fed, leaving Joanna for the most part to fend for herself. There was also a piece of cheese rind that shouldn't have been there either.

Joanna wrapped all her finds up, put on her coat and slid the food into her pocket. Carefully she opened the front door and left the house.

The night hadn't quite gone. The day was dull and thick with a mist that seemed to soak up both the light and the sounds of the day. In peacetime the church bells would have been ringing, but they wouldn't ring again until the enemy was defeated and peace had returned to the world.

She hurried down The Vale and along St John's Lane, through Victoria Park and down to the allotment. The solitary note of a steam train wailed into the morning mist, its steam adding to the whiteness already cloaking the air.

Harry peered over the top of his bed, shook his head so that his ears flapped, and got out to meet her. The food she'd brought was gone in a flash.

Joanna sat looking at him wondering what she could give him next. Perhaps Mrs Allen might have some leftovers she didn't want? It was worth a try. She resolved to knock on her door later and ask her.

‘Right,' she said, sitting back on her haunches. ‘Harry, it's Christmas. It's a time when people buy each other presents. I don't have anyone to buy for except you, so here it is.'

She got out a round package containing a red ball Mrs Goodson had found in her garden. Without her old dog she no longer refused to give balls back and, not having found the original owner, she'd given it to Joanna.

‘Merry Christmas, dear,' she'd said the day before yesterday. She'd then rushed indoors dabbing at her eyes.

Harry made short work of the newspaper she'd wrapped the ball in, tearing it into shreds with his sharp teeth.

The ball bounced and Harry bounced after it.

Joanna also got out a piece of rough rope she'd brought with her. Today she intended introducing Harry to a lead. Once the weather improved they would be able to go out for walks and she was looking forward to it. Her only concern was that somebody she knew might see them together, but she'd already decided on a suitable excuse. She was walking the dog for a kind old man who lived close to the park. It was all she could think of to stop Harry being carted off to be killed. Seb was the kind old man she had in mind. Meeting him had come as a complete surprise and also a relief.

By late morning, Harry was worn out and ready to sleep. Once she'd made sure he had water, Joanna headed for home. There wasn't much chance of getting anything to eat, but her stomach was beginning to rumble. She'd had nothing since the bowl of porridge she'd prepared herself that morning.

As she let herself in, she heard a man laughing, then her stepmother laughing in turn. Her spirits soared. Her father was home!

‘Daddy!' she exclaimed. Thinking that her greatest wish had come true she pushed open the door.

The smell of roast chicken came out to greet her. So did the sight of the man sitting next to her stepmother. Her stepmother's cheeks were flushed and her eyes had a glassy look.