The Puppy and the Orphan Page 13

  They sat for a while in silence, sipping their tea, neither one of them knowing what to say. It was quite simply two friends together and, after a comfortable time had passed, Sister Mary Joseph reached out for Nancy’s hand. ‘What are we going to do?’ she asked.

  ‘I have no idea, Sister,’ Nancy replied. ‘I usually know exactly what to do but I’ve failed. I almost failed little Billy and now this. Oh, Lord, we go from one problem to another at the moment.’

  They fell into silence once more. Nancy and Sister Mary Joseph heard barking in the distance and walked to the window to look out into the night. They could see old Mr Bell’s torch light bobbing between the trees and heard Oliver barking happily. ‘I’ll take the children to see Oliver tomorrow,’ Nancy said. ‘They’ll love that.’

  Nancy decided on an early night and crept into bed, only pausing when she heard Oliver barking happily again in the wood. She glanced over at her holy pictures and shook her head. ‘A puppy indeed,’ she said, smiling, before reaching out to switch off her bedside lamp.

  The next morning Nancy told the children they would be taking Oliver out for a run after Mass. The resulting uproar made her wish she had left telling them until after breakfast. She had hoped that Mother would not make the service, but was told she was feeling much better and would be there. I’ll tell her after Mass, she thought. I can pray for forgiveness during the service before I go and get a telling-off. The children knew their carols by heart and this would be the last time they would sing them this year.

  Well, regardless of what I have to do after Mass, I am not going to let anything spoil the thrill of seeing little Billy standing at the altar singing, thought Nancy. The children were eventually calmed down and made their way downstairs.

  The priest began and it was a lovely service. Nancy kept glancing at Mother from time to time, but she never looked over once. At the end of Mass the children all took their place at the altar and Sister Angela played the introduction to ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing’. The carol was only halfway through when Nancy heard it. Sister Mary Joseph turned to her. It was quite faint but they could hear Oliver barking. The children’s faces told them they had heard it too. Nancy stared at them and lifted her hand. ‘Louder,’ she mouthed. When Mother turned her head, Nancy was sitting once more with her hands in her lap, the picture of innocence.

  Oliver began to bark once more. This time Nancy quickly raised her hands again, mouthing, ‘Louder, louder.’ The children began to shout ‘Hark the Herald Angels’ so loudly that Father looked over to Mother who looked over to Sister Mary Joseph. When the carol was over, Sister Mary Joseph and Nancy sat like statues, hardly daring to breathe. Please God, please God, Nancy was praying, not until I have the chance to explain myself, please. Her wish was granted: all had fallen silent.

  They all stood up and she hurried the children down from the altar into a line and walked behind them as they made their way out of the chapel. Nancy kept her head down, but just as she reached the front pew Mother reached out and touched Nancy’s arm. ‘You know, Nancy, I’m almost sure I heard a dog barking.’

  ‘Did you, Mother, did you really?’ said Nancy and almost fell over the children as she pushed them in front of her to get out of the chapel as quickly as she possibly could. Mother raised questioning eyebrows at Sister Mary Joseph whose face was by now beetroot red.

  When everyone except Mother had left, the chapel fell silent. The rosary beads in her fingers were lifted to her lips and she kissed them, then sat on the pew to wait. She had known for days that something was going on. She was disappointed that Nancy had not felt able to come to her with it. Mother had called into the kitchen before Mass. She had seen Cook going regularly to the wood, which was quite out of character. In the end Cook had muttered and mumbled until at last the whole story had tumbled out. Whatever Mother had expected, it had not been that.

  It wasn’t long before Mother heard the door open and footsteps down the aisle. She heard Nancy walk to the altar and watched her make the sign of the cross, then come to sit beside her.

  ‘Come to confess, Nancy?’

  ‘Confess, Mother?’

  ‘Yes – you know, when you have done wrong and you wish to unburden your soul.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mother. I know what confession is.’

  ‘Well then, Nancy?’

  ‘Oh, Mother, you already know, don’t you?’

  ‘I think this is not a conversation for the chapel. Shall we go?’ Mother stood up and together they made their way up the aisle.

  ‘Are you angry with me, Mother?’ Nancy said with a catch in her voice.

  ‘Only saddened that you couldn’t tell me, Nancy.’

  ‘Oh, Mother, I’m sure it was God sent us the puppy. What do you think?’

  ‘I think,’ said Mother, ‘I need a very strong cup of tea.’

  Happiness Bubble

  Little Billy Miller had no idea how to explain exactly how he was feeling but it was really rather wonderful indeed. It was a kind of strange feeling, like a little bubble inside that made him want to laugh.

  He had been running around in the wood for over an hour now and Oliver showed no signs of slowing down one little bit. Yet every now and again Oliver would stop and check that Billy was there following him and wag his tail furiously every time Billy spoke to him. Billy was too young to understand what was happening; all he knew was that the horrible heavy feeling inside that made him want to cry over and over again was fading away. He could open his mouth and shout out now without feeling like something was stopping him. Of course, he still looked up to the stars in the sky, but he believed what Aunty Nancy had told him about ‘for-ever magic’ because Aunty Nancy always told the truth.

  Today Oliver had almost knocked him over when he bounded out of the cottage towards him. Mr Bell told him that Oliver knew he was coming even before he got there. ‘Doesn’t do that with anyone else,’ he had said. Billy felt very important indeed. When he thought about it, he got that bubbly feeling again and it always made him smile.

  It had all started the first time he saw Oliver in the wood on Boxing Day. That was the first time he had felt the bubble. It had got stronger and stronger and now Billy could feel it just by thinking of Oliver.

  Later Mr Bell had called over, saying he had a cup of hot chocolate for him and Oliver had gone bounding over, nearly knocking him over as he ran in the door to grab his place in front of the fire. Billy laughed and laughed and the bubble got bigger and bigger.

  Now Billy sat in front of the fire and Oliver curled up beside him, listening to the crackling sounds and watching the flames.

  There was a knock on the door. It was Aunty Nancy, telling him it was time to go back to the house for tea. Oliver stood up and climbed onto Billy’s knee as if to say please don’t go. Billy thought the bubble was getting so big it would surely burst and he put his arms around Oliver and cuddled him.

  Nancy came over and patted Oliver, who looked at her with sad eyes. ‘Never mind looking at me like that, Billy has to eat, you know. I will bring him back in the morning, I promise,’ Nancy told him.

  Nancy found it hard to believe the love that Billy and Oliver had now. Somehow this young child and the dog had forged this incredible bond from the moment they’d met. Nancy thought it was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

  Billy was beside Nancy holding her hand then suddenly he looked up at her, smiling. ‘Aunty Nancy.’

  ‘Yes, Billy?’

  ‘I have been feeling strange.’

  ‘Oh Heavens, Billy, are you feeling unwell.’

  ‘No, Aunty Nancy, I feel bubbly.’

  ‘Bubbly?’

  ‘I get bubbly in my tummy when I see Oliver and it make me smile. At first it was just one bubbly feeling but now it feels like lots of bubbles. Sometimes it even makes me laugh out loud.’

  A sob escaped Nancy and she had to gulp hard.

  ‘I like my bubbles, Aunty Nancy. What are they?’

  Nan
cy stopped for a moment and then took both the young child’s hands. ‘Well, Billy, it’s called the Happiness Bubble and we get them when we love someone, and when we are loved in return, it bursts into lots of little happiness bubbles. You, my darling, have a tummy full of happiness bubbles because you are kind, loving and one of the bravest children I have ever met.’

  Nancy turned away quickly so that Billy wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes and together they walked back to the house.

  Billy smiled. Happiness bubbles. He liked that very much indeed.

  New Year’s Eve

  It was always about the children, Nancy thought. Maybe it was because she knew how it felt to lose a mother. When hers had died she had tried hard to remember her voice. There had been no New Year celebrations like there were today. It had been quiet in their house, even though she had two brothers and two sisters. The only sound was of weeping and Nancy remembered it now. Her own tears had been held in check – somehow she couldn’t cry. She remembered rocking her baby sister, Mary, to comfort her. She had often dreamed of having her own baby when she grew up. She used to take the children sitting or lying down in their prams in the back lane for a walk. ‘Look at her,’ the neighbours would say. ‘She’s a proper little mother and just a little one herself.’ Everyone knew Nancy loved children. Patience of a saint, they said, yet she had a stubborn streak: if she made up her mind about something she couldn’t be moved.

  Tonight Nancy was thinking of herself as a child, her grief, fears and loneliness. She knew how the little ones placed in her arms were feeling and drew on that to help them. When she held them and wiped their tears with the corner of her apron she was telling them, I understand. I’m here. I’ll help you through this until you can smile again. Nancy was thirty-three and, at the moment, a mother to thirty-four children. They came and went – some were adopted – but the children she had at the moment had been there for quite some time. Normally Billy would have gone downstairs by now, as would Josephine – Nancy only had them with her until they were five. However, the junior department was full, so she had kept those two and Martha too. She was such a great help with the little ones. Next week Billy would go to school with the children downstairs. She still hadn’t been told what was going to happen with Josephine.

  Every year there were more and more babies. Nancy was saddened each time she heard about a young girl whose baby had been taken from her. What were the words they used to describe those mothers? Fallen, disgraced and other things Nancy refused to think about. Nobody dared say those words in front of her, they would get the sharp end of her tongue if they did. They were young girls who had made a mistake and the poor souls would pay for it for the rest of their lives. That was punishment enough, she thought. Not that Nancy knew or would ever know how it felt to hold her own child in her arms. She had dreamed about it, of course, and would then brush the thought away. Nancy Harmer was grateful for the life she had been given. Yet still those thoughts would pop into her head when she least expected it. Goodness me, Nancy thought, what is it about New Year’s Eve? I’m getting ridiculous.

  She walked over to the window and closed the curtains, then went to sit at her small table, where she poured herself a cup of tea. Sister Mary Joseph and Dolly would be along soon to share supper with her. There would be no time for daydreaming then, Nancy thought. Dolly would be full of chatter, telling them about things at home, and they would all have a good laugh. You could never fail to laugh with Dolly around.

  All in all, it had been a good year. The Ragdoll Express had been a great success, Billy was now chattering away endlessly and Josephine had begun to smile more. She was settling into life at the orphanage, yet the loss of her parents caused her great pain. Why wouldn’t it? thought Nancy. They would talk again tonight about how they might help her. Oliver had been a saviour for Billy so maybe he could help Josephine too. Nancy giggled to herself. If anyone had told me that a puppy would arrive at Christmas and solve our problems, I would have told them to go away and stop being so utterly ridiculous. She had never known what it was to own a dog and never really understood people who talked endlessly about their little darlings like they were children. Yet that moment when she picked Oliver up and he turned his face up to look at her, something inside Nancy melted. Oh those eyes, those big brown eyes, you could drown in them. What a little darling he is, she thought. Nancy burst out laughing. ‘Look, I’m doing it now,’ she told her holy pictures. ‘Whatever next.’

  There was a knock on the door and Sister Mary Joseph came in with Dolly bouncing behind her, talking as she walked in the room. ‘What are you laughing at, Nancy?’ they asked.

  ‘A puppy, of all things,’ she replied. ‘As if I haven’t enough to do with a nursery full of children.’

  ‘You love him just as much as we all do,’ Dolly said. ‘Now tell us what Mother said about Oliver.’

  ‘Well, nothing’s settled yet, but Mother said as long as Mr Bell agrees to keep Oliver in the cottage there shouldn’t be a problem. However, she is going to contact the mother house to make sure it will be allowed.’

  ‘She must have got such a shock,’ Dolly said.

  ‘Shock, my foot,’ said Nancy. ‘She knew perfectly well what was going on and was waiting for me to confide in her.’

  ‘Nothing much gets past her,’ agreed Sister Mary Joseph. ‘Maybe tomorrow we can take all the children out with Oliver. He’ll love it and so will they.’ She was smiling from ear to ear.

  ‘Come on, Sister,’ Nancy said. ‘Tell us why you’re sitting there looking like the cat that got the cream.’

  ‘I have news about Oliver – and you’re never going to believe it.’

  ‘Oooooh, come on then, tell us, tell us.’.

  Sister Mary Joseph looked at them both, she was thoroughly enjoying this moment when she knew something they didn’t. The waited. ‘Sister,’ Nancy said, ‘if you don’t tell us now, there will be no cake.’

  That was threat enough. ‘Well,’ she said, leaning forward, ‘Oliver has got a proper lead.’

  ‘Oh, is that all?’ they said, disappointed.

  ‘Did one of you buy it?’ Sister Mary Joseph asked.

  ‘Oh, I see what you mean!’ said Nancy. ‘Don’t tell me Mr Bell went out and bought one. Well I never!’ As far as anyone knew, Mr Bell never left the grounds. He had a sister who visited once a month and brought him anything he needed. He got his food from Cook and his coal was delivered. It had been a shock even to see him walking around the wood, with Oliver scampering among the trees.

  ‘I even saw him smile the other day,’ Dolly said.

  ‘Looks like the little chap is healing more hearts than just Billy’s,’ said Sister Mary Joseph.

  ‘Maybe God did send him here,’ said Dolly.

  ‘Happy New Year,’ they all said with a smile.

  They were quite right. It was a still night and the moon shone brightly over the wood where the trees were still, with a layer of frost on their branches. Behind the wood, in the caretaker’s cottage, the roaring fire in the grate spat and crackled. Old Mr Bell sat with his socks off, warming his feet. On the big old rug in front of him lay Oliver, curled up happily and content, dreaming of little Billy and how it felt to be in his arms. He missed his mummy though. He could remember vaguely the warmth of her fur and how her nose nuzzled him and tickled him. There had been another fire like this one fairly recently and he remembered a lovely lady who cuddled and kissed him. He liked her too. Like the children’s, his memories were fading slightly, but then he remembered Billy and he yawned contentedly. He liked this house with the big fire and the man who constantly patted and stroked him. Yes, Oliver was quite happy to be here. As Nancy, Sister and Dolly chinked their cups together, the moon shone down on the caretaker’s cottage. For the second time that year old Mr Bell was smiling.

  Fun and Frolics

  Nancy was kept busy after New Year. She made what seemed like hundreds of trips up and down the stairs to her treasure trove in the attic. E
very piece of wrapping paper was saved and folded, then placed under heavy boxes to flatten it. Glitter was scraped off the Christmas cards and placed in a tin for next year’s decorations. All the beds were stripped, the floors cleaned and polished.

  Downstairs in the kitchen extra help was brought in to scrub it from top to bottom until every pan and every surface gleamed. Nobody came near the kitchen while this was going on. They didn’t dare disturb Cook’s cleaning days.

  As the weeks went by the snow disappeared, and by mid February it was still cold but dry and crisp. Josephine was taken once a week to the local hospital for check-ups and physiotherapy. She was coming along nicely, they told Nancy, but she still refused to walk. Yet Nancy thought she seemed much happier. She would sit on the floor in the playroom with the other children, but outside she would stay wrapped up in her wheelchair, watching them play and run around the wood with Oliver. Nancy was teaching Josephine to read and write and had discovered she was clever, with a bright, inquisitive mind. There was talk about special help for her at school but nothing had been arranged yet.

  The garden door was beneath Nancy’s window. One afternoon she heard a frantic knocking. She looked out, and there stood Mr Bell with Oliver. She called down, ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘Is Billy there?’ he said. ‘Thought he might like to come with us.’

  Nancy was thrilled and hurried off to find Billy, then watched him and Mr Bell walking up and down the driveway while Oliver ran in and out of the wood, always coming back to check they were still there. Nancy smiled, it was a happy sight. What joy the little chap had brought to the orphanage, she thought. She couldn’t imagine life without him now. Every day the children knocked at the cottage and Mr Bell let Oliver out. Sometimes he went with them and Nancy watched him change. He smiled more, and she had even heard him laugh at Oliver’s antics. Oliver had brought more than fun to the orphanage: he had brought a sense of peace, he was healing hearts. I never knew dogs could do that, she thought. How absolutely wonderful it is to watch. I don’t understand how it works but maybe it doesn’t matter. It is enough to know it does work and this beautiful creature is doing God’s work. He has his own little character, just like the children, Nancy thought, remembering yesterday.