help.
‘He’ll be dancing for joy like us,’ Iris said, this time pulling June into another spin. ‘The Yanks are coming – they’re really coming,’ she sang out. ‘Oh, thank God! We’re going to win this bloody war, you’ll see. This time next year it’ll all be over.’
Even the welcome news about the Japs invading Pearl Harbor wasn’t enough to stop Murray Andrews thinking about the girl in the bookshop. Fair enough, she was pretty, but he’d known loads of pretty girls. So what was so special about June Lavender? Was it her quiet determined manner? Or the hint of mischief behind those grassy-green eyes? Was it because she shared a love of books? Was it simply because she hadn’t shown the slightest interest in him when she’d tried to get past him in the corridor of the train? Her polite but firm reply when he’d offered to pay for her book? He was so used to women being impressed with his being a fighter pilot that it was odd not having to fend off yet another pretty girl.
He grinned. If he wasn’t careful he’d get the reputation of being a cocky sod. And that was best left to the likes of the handsome, full-of-himself Yank, Captain Charles (‘Call me Chas’) Lockstone, who’d breezed in six weeks ago along with a handful of other American volunteer pilots by going over the border and joining the Royal Canadian Air Force. It was inevitable that today’s news would bring the Yanks into the war and a lot more of them would soon be over here. No question we need them, Murray thought, lighting a cigarette, even though he couldn’t work up a lot of enthusiasm. He’d heard too many stories about them – many of them not very favourable – to look forward to their arrival. But Churchill would be ecstatic as he’d tried so hard and for so long to convince Roosevelt to enter fully into the war, so surely now the tide would turn in the Allies’ favour.
Murray tried to concentrate on his newspaper but it was impossible. Everything was bound to change now.
The news about the Americans coming into the war was the only topic in the dining room at dinnertime. Even Matron couldn’t stop the children cheering and shouting ‘hurray’ when they heard the grown-ups talking and laughing that Jerry wouldn’t know what hit them now the Americans were about to swell the numbers in the military. Everyone joining in except Lizzie, June thought sadly. It didn’t matter that Lizzie and most of the children were too young to understand how much it meant that finally Churchill had got his wish. It was enough that they were following the older children, who were clearly excited. But not Lizzie. The little girl would be upstairs in the nursery having her dinner, but there’d be no childish laughter escaping the room as there were no other children to share it with. June was certain that if only she knew the full story she’d be able to help Lizzie, whom she hadn’t seen since those few minutes yesterday. She’d settle in for a few days and have a word with Iris and Kathleen – ask them their opinion – but until then she’d make sure to go to the kitchen every morning, where she knew Lizzie regularly curled up under the watchful eye of Bertie, and speak to her even if the little girl never answered. Momentarily, June closed her eyes. Lizzie reminded her so much of Clara.
‘Let us hope you’ve enjoyed your morning off,’ Matron said, a touch of sarcasm dripping through the words. ‘There’s plenty to learn and I want you to start right away, so please come to my office as soon as you’ve finished.’
June helped serve the dinner, which was stew and bread, with rice pudding to follow, all the while thinking of Lizzie alone in the nursery, though it was hard to think straight with all the noise. The children were not allowed to talk but that didn’t stop them scraping their chairs, coughing, slurping, sniffing, whispering. One child was making a racket with two spoons and June was surprised Matron hadn’t reprimanded him. Then she realised. Matron would be watching to see whether she could control the children on what was only her second day.
‘Will you please stop banging those spoons,’ June said in a firm voice. The child took no notice, just grinned and carried on doing it. The child opposite with ginger hair and freckles began to giggle. She had to say something or else they’d get the better of her, though it was difficult as they were several seats away.
‘The boy who would love to play drums and is practising with two spoons – what is your name?’
There was a silence. The children’s heads swivelled to look at the offending boy. The boy banging the spoons gave another loud clash.
‘Could someone tell me his name if he can’t answer for himself?’ June persisted.
‘It’s Thomas, Miss. He’s always mucking about,’ said the ginger-haired boy.
‘No, I’m not,’ Thomas shouted.
‘No talking!’ Matron glared across from the neighbouring table. ‘That goes for you, too, Miss Lavender, unless there is an emergency.’
Several children giggled. June went red with annoyance. If Matron was going to pull her up in front of the children, she didn’t stand a chance. The children would think they could get the better of her every time.
‘This is an emergency, Matron,’ June spoke in such a low voice she wondered if Matron would hear. ‘If I hear any more from you, Thomas, I will … I’ll …’
‘What, Miss? What will you do?’ His eyes were like two shining pieces of coal, challenging her.
‘You will be promoted to monitor of the games room. And you will clean it up after the children every day for a fortnight whether you’ve played in there or not. They won’t have to do it – you will.’
‘That’d be right good, Miss,’ Peter said, grinning at the scowling Thomas.
‘Now no more talking. That goes for all of you.’
‘Even you, Miss,’ Thomas muttered under his breath.
The rest of the meal passed in silence allowing June’s thoughts to stray to Lizzie again. She couldn’t get the little girl out of her head. A child who had suffered such a terrible shock it had made her dumb. It was wrong that Matron would not allow her to join in with the other children who might even be able to encourage her to speak. And she still didn’t like the idea that Lizzie was left alone while someone came downstairs to eat a meal, no matter how quickly, and then go back upstairs. Anything could happen in between. Hilda was not acting at all responsibly but Matron had clearly sent a warning not to interfere. Well, she was afraid she might not be able to heed that warning. Where was Hilda anyway?
Completely forgetting Matron’s order to report to her office, June jumped to her feet and stacked the plates nearest to her.
‘Can you finish this?’ she mouthed to Iris, who nodded.
June dumped the dishes in the kitchen and practically ran up the flights of stairs, her heart hammering as though she were a naughty schoolgirl about to get found out. Past her own room and the maids’ to the end. A door in front of her was conveniently marked ‘Nursery’ and she tried it. It was locked.
‘Lizzie, are you in there?’ June shook the handle. There was no sound. Of course – the child couldn’t make herself heard. She thought she heard a scuffle of shoes. ‘Lizzie,’ she called again. ‘It’s Miss Lavender, the new lady who has come to help look after you and the other children. Is there a key in the door? If there is you could turn it. Open the door. And I could say “hello” to you.’
She
