An Orphan in the Snow: The heart-warming saga you need to read this year. Molly Green

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      ‘Me?’ Iris pointed to herself. ‘Definitely not. I couldn’t live up here for good if you paid me. I’m from Kent. Not a good place to be in this bloody war.’ June flinched at the swear word. ‘Though it was quite thrilling seeing the Battle of Britain going on right above my head. My two young brothers went mad with excitement. Daft little buggers. They can’t wait to be old enough to join up.’

      June took a piece of Bertie’s delicious fruit cake, barely taking in all Iris was telling her. ‘I’ve been sent here and here I’ll stay,’ Iris rattled on, ‘but not a moment longer after the war’s over … whenever that will be. Luckily, the children keep me on my toes with their various shenanigans. And there’s plenty of food. That’s a draw in itself.’ She grinned.

      ‘Isn’t the food rationed?’

      ‘Some things,’ Iris said. ‘But the government looks after institutions, particularly when there are children. And we grow our own vegetables and have a few chickens so we do all right here.’

      June put her cup down. The twenty minutes must be up by now.

      ‘I’m to meet Matron after I’ve finished my cup of tea,’ she said.

      Iris pulled a face. ‘She’s such a tartar. Barely gives you time to unpack before she has you working. You’d better get going then. Don’t want to get in her bad books on your first morning.’

      With more than a flicker of apprehension June went in search of Matron, who was already waiting outside her office, tapping her large foot impatiently.

      ‘Right, there you are at last,’ Matron said abruptly. ‘We’ll do the classrooms first.’

      With that, she strode down the corridor, June following closely. She opened a door without knocking, then marched into a classroom of about fifteen children. Immediately the children scrambled to their feet, even two small boys not more than five or six years old, looking wide-eyed at the new lady in their midst. The older children, maybe ten or eleven years old, shuffled as they stood, and June saw a yellow-haired boy dig a dark-skinned child in the ribs. The child gave a yelp. All of them stared at her.

      ‘Miss Graham?’ Matron said, almost as a demand.

      A woman of about June’s own height and figure, her strawberry-blonde hair pulled back in a soft, shining Victory Roll, finished wiping the blackboard and put the rubber neatly back on the ledge. June couldn’t help being conscious of her own hair, so thick it refused to be properly styled and would simply fall to her shoulders in unruly waves if she didn’t keep it tied back. The young woman, Miss Graham, came towards them with quick determined steps, her heels clicking on the wooden floor.

      ‘Miss Graham, this is Miss Lavender,’ Matron said. ‘She’s my new assistant – come to help me with the load.’

      ‘Nice to meet you.’ Miss Graham had a clipped accent. Her hazel eyes held no gleam of enthusiasm as she extended her hand to June. ‘I’m Athena Graham.’ June sent her a questioning look. ‘Yes, ghastly, isn’t it? Blame it on my mother, who was a Greek nut. I teach English and mathematics, by the way – to all ages, as you can see.’ She dropped her hand. ‘I hope you’ll be happy with us.’

      Athena Graham didn’t sound a particularly happy person herself. Maybe the boys played her up, yet somehow June couldn’t see her allowing them to get the better of her.

      ‘I’m sure I will be.’ June smiled. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

      Miss Graham turned towards the class. ‘You may sit.’

      There was a scuffling of chairs as they sat down with expressions of undisguised curiosity. June looked over at the sea of faces. All boys. They began muttering and one of them gave a low appreciative whistle when June sent them a shaky smile.

      ‘Enough of that, Jackson,’ Matron admonished. ‘Where are your manners?’

      ‘Left them in the dorm this morning, Matron.’

      The other boys sniggered.

      ‘What did you say your name was, Miss?’ another boy asked cheekily. He had a too-thin face and dark, greasy hair which flopped into his eyes.

      ‘I didn’t say,’ June began, ‘but I’m Miss Lavender.’

      The boy flicked his head back and the swathes settled into place for a few moments. ‘How do you do, Miss Lavender?’ he said in what he obviously thought was an upper-class accent. The boys giggled again.

      ‘Hello to all of you.’ June smiled. ‘I hope to get to know your names very soon. It’ll take me longer than you because there’s only one of me, but I’m sure—’

      ‘That’ll be all, Miss Lavender,’ Matron said, taking hold of June’s arm. ‘We must continue our tour. No doubt we’ll see you at dinner, Miss Graham.’ And with a nod she firmly escorted June out of the door.

      ‘Now the art studio,’ Matron said. She opened the door and June inhaled the familiar smell of paint and turpentine. It took her straight back to her home in March, where she would help Clara to make a painting for their mother. June noticed the atmosphere in the studio was far more relaxed than Miss Graham’s class, as this teacher was walking around, looking over the children’s shoulders and smiling encouragement at their work.

      ‘That’s coming along really well,’ she was saying to one of the girls.

      ‘Mrs Steen – needlework and art,’ Matron snapped out as though she was contemptuous of Mrs Steen’s particular subjects.

      ‘Barbara,’ the teacher said in an undertone so the pupils wouldn’t hear. She grinned as Matron flashed her a warning look, and her friendly grey eyes lit up her plain features. She took June’s hand firmly in her own plump one, and June warmed to her instantly.

      ‘And the third teacher we have is Miss Ayles,’ Matron said, as they left the art studio and she strode ahead into the next classroom. ‘She’s the senior teacher and has the older children. She teaches religious instruction, history and geography with particular emphasis on our glorious Empire.’

      From Matron’s tone, history and geography were far more acceptable.

      Miss Ayles was thin as a stick, with spectacles halfway down her nose, and an abundance of liver spots on her face and hands. Her grey hair was drawn back into a severe bun, every hair held in place at the sides by two black combs.

      ‘Miss Lavender is my new assistant,’ Matron said, edging June forward.

      June smiled and put out her hand. Miss Ayles’s lips lifted a fraction at the corners in acknowledgement, but her dry handshake was brief and gave nothing away.

      It was plain that some of the staff didn’t seem best pleased to have her there. June pressed her lips stubbornly together. She’d show them she was a hard worker who would put her heart and soul into whatever was in store for her. Her thoughts flew again to Lizzie. She was just about to summon the courage to ask if they could go up to the nursery, when Matron said:

      ‘We’ll put our heads in the door of the sick ward. Don’t want to go in and catch anything. Nurse Manners will be there. She’s got two of the girls in, both with tonsillitis. They’re twins – Daisy and Doris СКАЧАТЬ