Christmas for the Halfpenny Orphans. Cathy Sharp

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СКАЧАТЬ let’s see what we can do for your mother first,’ Angela said. ‘Perhaps there is some treatment that will help her.’

      She was thoughtful as she made her way to her office. If Kelly’s mother was suffering from the damp conditions in her slum house then the sooner she was on their list the better. Since the end of the war more and more building was taking place, but it took time to get all the kilns and factories producing at full capacity and progress was slow. So many people had been left homeless that pulling down the old slums that had remained standing was not a priority. In time it was hoped to replace all the substandard housing, but it could take years. It was the aim of the charity Angela assisted to help those who needed it most, but there were so many in bad housing and they couldn’t help them all. In some quarters there was resistance on the part of the slum dwellers themselves, who didn’t want to move out to the suburbs; for this reason, the charity had decided to renovate old properties rather than build new.

      Families like Kelly’s were often overlooked, and the terrible poverty they endured often bred cruelty, which in turn led to battered children being brought to their door at St Saviour’s. If Kelly’s mother died, the girl would have to leave her job to look after her siblings or they might end up at St Saviour’s or some other children’s home.

      Determined to prevent such a tragedy, Angela resolved to speak to Dr Kent about visiting Kelly’s mother. He was new to the area and keen to get to grips with the poverty and sickness he witnessed on his rounds; Angela hoped that would make him more likely to be interested in the Masons’ case.

      Angela had no sooner started typing up her report than the door opened and Sister Beatrice entered. She looked thoughtful and rather anxious, as if something were playing on her mind.

      ‘Is there anything wrong?’

      ‘Wrong with me? Why should there be? I’m perfectly well,’ Sister snapped, and Angela wondered what she’d said to upset her this time. She was secretly counting the days to her forthcoming move upstairs to one of the new offices in the attic. Perhaps once their offices were no longer side-by-side and they met only to discuss business they would get on better.

      ‘No reason at all,’ she said. ‘I thought you looked anxious … perhaps over one of the children?’

      ‘Well yes,’ Sister admitted. ‘I am concerned about the new arrivals, Angela. Samantha and Sarah … As you know, they were discovered sleeping rough in a bombed-out house due for demolition. The police had cleared it of homeless vagrants once already, but they went back for a final check before the bulldozers moved in and found the girls close to exhaustion from lack of food and water …’

      ‘Have they told you why they were there? Or given their last names?’

      ‘Not yet. Though I’ve been informed they’re sisters and their surname is May. Samantha seems wary. Sarah is a gentle girl, very pretty and doesn’t say much, just sits there and looks at you.’

      ‘Can she speak?’

      ‘She speaks when she wants to – usually yes or no or thank you. They both seem to have nice manners and they haven’t caused a bit of bother … but something isn’t right. Sarah has old scarring and faded bruises, but Samantha was merely dehydrated and hungry; although when I examined the marks on her sister’s body she seemed to wince, almost as if she was feeling Sarah’s pain herself.’

      ‘Could they be twins? I’ve heard that sometimes twins feel each other’s pain and emotions.’

      ‘Samantha says they are twins, but they aren’t identical and Sarah seems younger and quieter … perhaps she’s in her sister’s shadow. I think I might ask Mark to have a word with them, next time he visits.’

      ‘Yes …’ Angela frowned. ‘We don’t want the kind of bother we had with poor Terry.’

      ‘No, certainly not.’ Sister shuddered as they both remembered the frightened, troubled child who had attacked her. ‘I feel so responsible for what happened. I know his sister blames herself too, but I doubt anyone could have prevented it.’

      ‘Nancy is coping very well for the moment. Muriel was telling me she’s very good at making pastry – in fact she made the treacle tart some of the children had at lunch.’

      ‘Yes, well, I’m glad she’s coming along nicely – but I don’t want anything like that to happen here again, Angela. Nancy refused to be parted from her brother and Samantha is behaving in much the same way. She says her sister might be frightened if she woke in the night and she was not there.’

      ‘Does it really matter if they stay together?’ Angela asked reasonably. ‘As we discussed, we’re moving Mary Ellen and Marion into the new wing next week; they will have one of the smaller rooms with four beds. Perhaps we should put the twins in with them. They’re much the same age, but Sarah seems younger and Samantha needs to get comfortable with us. It is very strange for children who’ve been accustomed to doing chores and taking care of their siblings when they suddenly find themselves having to follow our rules.’

      ‘Do you imagine I am not aware of that?’ Sister Beatrice was clearly not in the best of moods, reverting to the hostility that she’d shown when Angela first came to the home the previous year. ‘I’ve no intention of repeating the mistakes that were made with Nancy and Terry …’

      ‘None of us could have foreseen such an outcome,’ Angela said. ‘You mustn’t blame yourself, Sister. Terry had been badly damaged by his father’s brutality, not to mention the trauma of the fire that killed his parents. We shall never know exactly what took place, but Terry’s mind was so badly warped by his father’s torture—’

      ‘Well, that’s as maybe,’ sniffed Sister Beatrice. ‘Anyway, I’ve been informed by Constable Sallis that the police have managed to trace the girls’ aunt. She may be willing to take them, in which case their stay with us will be a short one.’

      ‘That’s a good thing, I expect.’

      Sister’s gaze flickered and Angela thought she saw distress in her eyes, but then the older woman was turning away, leaving her to carry on with her work. The report was almost finished, which left two letters to compose and type up before she would be ready to meet Mark. But as her fingers rattled the keys of the typewriter her mind kept drifting back to Sister Beatrice’s hostility, and wondering what could have provoked it.

      Beatrice entered her own office, closing the door behind her and leaning against it for a moment. She had no idea why she’d been so annoyed to find Angela busily typing away at this hour; her assistant was very efficient and saved her endless hours of paperwork, something she’d found irksome in the past. Mark had assured Sister Beatrice that the Administrator’s role was not intended to usurp hers and that the children of St Saviour’s would continue to depend on her experience and her understanding.

      She touched the heavy silver crucifix she wore hanging from a long chain about her neck, and then closed her eyes. She must conquer this feeling of anxiety and anger that came over her sometimes in the younger woman’s presence.

      ‘Forgive me, Lord,’ Beatrice said. ‘Pride and ambition are unworthy sins and I must submit to Thy will for me …’

      Yet even as she mouthed the words she knew she would fight with all that was in her to retain her position at St Saviour’s … but why was she feeling threatened? She’d thought she’d managed to put this behind her, to accept that Angela’s position as Administrator was of benefit to all.

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