The Puppy and the Orphan Page 8

  The whole neighbourhood felt so sorry for Maggie and young Josephine. They had been shocked when they saw the police car outside the house. They had looked through their net curtains wondering what had happened. Maggie’s screams told them it was something terrible.

  Ernie had been on his way home from work on his motorbike when he was hit by a wagon. He hadn’t stood a chance. Their perfect world was shattered. Mrs Nelson from next door came to see if she could help, and she later told the people in the street it was the saddest sight she had ever seen. Little Josephine, who never sat still, was on a chair at the table, looking straight ahead. ‘Looked like a little statue,’ Mrs Nelson told them, ‘white as a sheet. Even her plaits weren’t moving.’

  ‘Ooh,’ said the women. ‘Poor little lamb. It can be a sad, cruel world.’ They all nodded in agreement.

  But there were yet more challenges for the Joneses to face. Over the next few weeks everyone agreed that Maggie wasn’t taking care of herself or Josephine properly. ‘Walks around talking to herself,’ they said.

  ‘Never cleaned the doorstep for weeks,’ said another.

  The next time Mrs Nelson called, she was shocked not only at the state of the house but at Josephine, who sat in front of the fire, her tangled, matted hair around her shoulders. Mrs Nelson had brought them some broth and stayed until she had seen them both eat it. She sent Maggie off to bed for a good rest, then cleared up and put more coal on the fire. She lifted Josephine onto her knee and began to brush her hair.

  For a while, Josephine sat perfectly still. Then she turned so sharply that Mrs Nelson jumped. ‘Where’s Heaven?’ she asked. Mrs Nelson paused with her hand in the air, twiddling the brush round in her fingers. ‘Can I go there?’

  Mrs Nelson sighed and put her arms around the child.

  Josephine grabbed Mrs Nelson’s hand and looked up at her. ‘Mummy said it’s a lovely place and we can go there too one day and see Daddy again. I know Mummy will feel better when we go. Can we go tomorrow, do you think?’

  Mrs Nelson was shocked to the core. ‘Goodness me, I hope not, Josephine.’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Josephine, with tears in her eyes. ‘I want my daddy.’

  ‘Oh my, there now,’ said Mrs Nelson, not knowing what on earth to say. She sat staring into the fire, rocking the sobbing child until eventually she fell asleep. She carried Josephine to the sofa and covered her with a blanket. Then she crept upstairs to check on Maggie, who was lying on top of the bed sleeping. There was a small cross on the bedside table and Mrs Nelson walked over to look at it. She had never been one for going to church but it had given her an idea. She went quietly downstairs, checked Josephine again, and closed the door. She would pop along to the local church and ask Father Brian to call in and see them. Maybe it would help. It certainly couldn’t do any harm. Talking about Heaven was his domain. Hers was making sure they both ate and kept their strength up.

  Maggie had been a funny colour today. Can’t put my finger on it, she thought, but she really hadn’t looked well at all. ‘Just the shock, I expect,’ Mrs Nelson told her neighbours later.

  It was extremely fortunate that Father Brian called one evening later that week. Nobody ever locked their doors so after he had knocked once or twice he had gone in. He had found Josephine crying and Maggie lying on the floor. It had been more than shock that had made Maggie look so pale, and she was rushed to hospital. She had polio and six weeks later she went to join the husband she missed so badly, leaving Josephine alone.

  ‘She shouldn’t have died,’ Mrs Nelson told the neighbours. ‘Many people are crippled by polio but they don’t die.’

  Maggie Jones, it seemed, had simply lost the will to live. ‘We’ve saved worse cases,’ the nurses at the hospital had said. They agreed that Mrs Jones had had no fight in her, and some had tutted on being told she had a young daughter. But the grief that had lain so heavily inside Maggie Jones had engulfed her.

  The challenges for that family were not yet over. The condition of the house had deteriorated so much that Josephine had also been taken to hospital, where it was found she, too, had polio. The people in the street talked about nothing else for days and Mrs Nelson cried endlessly. She had been boiling her sheets, clothes and towels, cleaning her whole house just in case. ‘Poor child asked me if she could go to Heaven to see her daddy. Looks like she might just get her wish.’

  ‘Surely not,’ the neighbours said, standing round the street in huddles.

  Later that night Mrs Nelson got down on her knees beside her bed. ‘Don’t know much about this praying stuff,’ she said, feeling quite ridiculous, ‘but spare this little child, please. She is only five years old and she’ll make a lovely daughter for some poor childless couple. There now, wouldn’t that be a reason for all this? For the life of me I can’t think of another.’ Mrs Nelson struggled to her feet and walked over to the window to close the curtains. She looked up at the sky. ‘Don’t forget now,’ she said.

  It was a few weeks later that Josephine left hospital. A quiet child, they said, no bother at all, except that she refused to walk. She could stand perfectly well – it had been a mild case of polio – and the callipers would help. It was almost as though Josephine Jones had decided not to get better. As soon as they stood her up, she would cry and plead to sit down again. ‘You’ll get better,’ they kept telling her. ‘You’ll be as healthy as the next child if you just do as we tell you.’

  ‘Bit more encouragement, that’s all it’ll take,’ said Annie, the nurse who was to accompany Josephine in the ambulance. ‘Needs to be forced out of that chair and made to walk. It was a good recovery and she won’t need those callipers on her legs for ever – but we can’t get the child to walk,’ she told her colleagues. Annie looked at Josephine, who sat completely still, looking straight ahead. She sighed and patted the little girl’s shoulder.

  Josephine looked up, smiled weakly, then continued to look straight ahead. Annie was handed a small bag. ‘All her treasures,’ the ward nurse said. ‘Never lets it out of her sight.’ And then she hurried off to her busy ward. Josephine smiled at Annie and asked if she could carry the bag herself. She hugged it to her as she was pushed down the long corridor.

  Annie looked down at her and felt a tug at her heart. Poor little soul, she’s clutching that bag as though her life depended on it. Annie leaned forward and asked if there was anything she would like. A glass of water before leaving, something to eat maybe? Suddenly Josephine turned round. ‘Please can I have my hair in plaits?’

  ‘Well, of all the things …’ Annie said.

  Josephine’s eyes filled with tears.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ said Annie. ‘I have nieces with plaits and I’ve seen how to do it. Shall we give it a try?’ On a seat at the entrance to the hospital Annie sat and tried to remember how her sister did it.

  Josephine opened her bag and took out her brush. Not any old brush, the one Mummy had used every night in front of the fire. Gradually the plaits took shape until suddenly Annie said, ‘Oh, I haven’t anything to tie them with.’ Josephine smiled, opened her bag again and pulled out two bits of elastic. ‘Well I never,’ Annie said. ‘So that was your treasure, was it?’

  It took a bit of time to get the plaits tied but eventually Annie had finished and was extremely pleased with herself. ‘There now, how wonderful they look,’ she said. Josephine looked up at her. There was a twinkle in her eye and she was smiling. Annie had only recently qualified as a nurse and was thrilled. She had made the child smile, which no one else had been able to do. There was a spring in her step as she pushed the young child out of the doors. She had known exactly what to say and do to make the child feel better. Yes, Annie Foster was very pleased with herself indeed. ‘Here we are, Josephine,’ she said. Josephine was placed in the back of the ambulance and Annie sat beside her. ‘Pleased with your plaits?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ replied Josephine. ‘I want to make sure I look nice when I see Mummy and Daddy again.’

  Annie’s smi
le disappeared and her hands shook. Surely the child hadn’t been told she was going to see her parents. Oh, dear God, surely they’d told Josephine her parents had died. Annie went through everything she had been told. The child knew her father had died in an accident. She had definitely been told that her mother had also died. What was she talking about? Annie opened her mouth to ask but in the end said nothing. She hadn’t a clue what to say.

  The ambulance turned into the gates of Nazareth House. Josephine’s plaits lay perfectly still. Not a hair moved. Josephine had not heard a word of Annie’s chatter on the way there. She had better things to think about. Daddy had promised he would never leave her and had told Mummy over and over again about how they would all be together for ever and ever. When Daddy had gone to Heaven, Mummy had said it was where good people went when they died and that God would look after him until they could go too. Mummy had gone to Heaven now so of course they would send for Josephine soon. Josephine had been very excited until the doctor had said she was well enough to walk now and wasn’t sick any more. When she asked if she was going to Heaven, the doctor had laughed and said, ‘Most definitely not.’ He had told her how lucky she was, that when she was fully fit she would be able to walk again.

  Josephine knew that if she got well enough to walk she would never be able to go to Heaven so she had refused to walk and would continue to do so. Josephine Jones was a bright little girl.

  She was lifted out of the ambulance and sat in her wheelchair looking up at the house in front of her. Staring straight ahead, she missed the sight of the wood to her left and the beautiful statue of Our Lady of Lourdes.

  Josephine didn’t move. There wasn’t a tear in her eyes. She was too numb inside to cry. Annie squeezed her hand, saying, ‘It’s all right, you’re here now.’ Josephine remained completely still. Even her plaits refused to move.

  She stared towards the huge house in front of her, terrified. ‘It’s so big,’ she said, looking at all the windows. Josephine tried to count them but couldn’t.

  ‘Be a brave girl now,’ Annie said.

  Josephine was tired of being told to be good and to be brave.

  ‘These kind people will make you better, Josephine,’ added Annie, but Josephine didn’t want to get better so she continued to stare at her new home. A gentle breeze blew around her, making her feel her hair was being stroked, like Daddy used to do. Something stirred inside her. Josephine didn’t notice that she had begun to cry.

  Nancy walked along the long corridor and felt a familiar tug at her heartstrings that told her a child was crying. She stopped, listened, then went slowly to the window to look down onto the driveway.

  Josephine looked up and saw a face. Suddenly, from nowhere, a spark of hope and warmth began to ease the chill inside her.

  Nancy’s fingers reached for the corner of her apron as she looked at the child and smiled.

  Heaven

  Nancy’s first sight of Josephine was confusing. Hundreds of children had been in her care and most of those little souls were frightened and crying when they arrived, but this was different. At her age Josephine would normally have gone downstairs to the junior department, but because of her mobility issues Nancy had been asked to take her into the nursery.

  Josephine sat in her chair, staring at the floor, and when Nancy lifted her chin, she looked into her eyes. Well now, Nancy thought, what’s this? The tears were gone but it was easy to see the child had been crying. There was a flush of colour on each cheek and Nancy knew what it was. This child was very angry indeed. ‘This is a first,’ she whispered to Mother Superior. Nancy had read the notes and knew Josephine’s history. The little girl had turned six on Christmas Eve. She had lost both parents and had suffered ill health herself. Maybe she had every right to be angry, thought Nancy, but she certainly couldn’t be allowed to remain so. It wasn’t right.

  Mother Superior took Josephine’s hand and said, in her best soothing voice, ‘We’re here to help you, Josephine.’

  Josephine Jones had been taught good manners by Mummy and Daddy. She had never answered back in all her six years but today a numbness inside her had been replaced by something she had never felt before. Her cheeks burned red.

  Mother Superior looked at Nancy, then patted Josephine’s hand. ‘Well now, here we are, yes, here we are.’

  Nancy was amused: poor Mother had no idea what to say. Tears I can deal with, she thought, but anger? She decided to tackle it head on. ‘Josephine, darling, you look a little bit angry. Would you like to tell me why?’

  ‘I didn’t want to come here.’

  ‘Well, many other children have said the same and they’re upstairs now having great fun in the playroom after running about in the garden this morning. We have some lovely books and toys.’

  ‘I wanted to go somewhere else. Mummy promised.’

  Nancy knelt in front of the child, who looked as though any minute the anger would be replaced by tears. ‘Where did you want to go, my darling?’

  ‘Heaven!’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Heaven!’

  There was a stunned silence in the parlour and the only sound that could be heard was the ticking of the clock that hung high up on the wall.

  ‘God decides when we go to Heaven, darling.’

  ‘But Mummy promised we’d be able to go and see Daddy one day and Mummy went without me and I want to go there now. If I get better I can’t go.’

  Nancy swooped Josephine out of the chair and held her close as Josephine gave way to the tears that poured down her face onto Nancy’s neck.

  ‘Please can I go?’ Josephine sobbed. ‘Please let me go to Heaven.’

  It was not known at this point who was most upset, Nancy or the young child she held in her arms. Nancy carried Josephine up the parlour stairs and made her way through the door into the nursery. Mother paused for a few moments before making her way to the chapel. She knelt at the altar steps. ‘Heaven,’ she said, well it was the first time a child had asked that. Mother looked up at the cross. ‘There is a reason for everything and only you know what it is,’ she prayed. ‘It is for us to carry out your will. Help us soothe this young child’s pain, dear Lord.’

  Upstairs Nancy tried to coax Josephine into drinking some milk and eating a biscuit without success, but at least she was no longer crying. Nancy carried her to the dormitory and tucked her into a bed for a nap. The child looked exhausted and she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

  Nancy walked over to the window and prayed for help. ‘I’ve got one child who won’t talk and another who won’t walk. Please could I bother you for another miracle?’

  Stolen Straw and Guilty Faces

  Josephine was still asleep and Nancy was in the dining room, preparing for lunch thinking all in all it had been a lovely Christmas. The nativity play for the lady mayor was over and she would be able to relax a bit. It was a yearly tradition to hold a special nativity service for the lady mayor and dignitaries between Boxing Day and the New Year. All had gone well this year after the panic on Christmas Eve had been averted. Now Nancy heard Sister Mary Joseph hurrying along the corridor to help the children wash before lunch and decided she had time to pop along to the kitchenette for a cuppa before the children made their way to the dining room. They’d be here soon.

  Sure enough, ten minutes later, feeling refreshed, Nancy made her way to the dining room. ‘Hello children,’ she said as she watched them taking their seats at the tables. Good as gold, she thought as they all replied.

  ‘Hello, Aunty Nancy.’

  Nancy smiled, but only for a moment. Hm, she thought. What are they up to? Nancy was no fool. ‘Is everything all right, children?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Aunty Nancy.’

  There’s something I can’t put my finger on, Nancy thought, watching them. After lunch they usually ran off to the playroom but instead Martha, Billy, Norman, Tommy and Mary stood in front of the serving table where Nancy was stacking the dishes.

  They pushed
Martha to the front.

  Ah, Nancy thought. I knew there was something. ‘Yes, Martha?’ she said, but it was Billy who answered. Nancy was both shocked and thrilled. It was the longest sentence she had heard from him.

  ‘We wanted to be extra good to help you and we want to do some of your jobs today because it’s Christmas and you told us that being kind to others was the most special gift ever.’ Four little heads nodded.

  Nancy was so moved she almost dropped a serving dish. ‘Oh, my darlings, come here,’ she said, gathering them around her, their little angelic faces gazing up at her.

  ‘Please, Aunty Nancy, could we go and bring the milk up for you.’

  ‘Very well,’ she said, ‘but be very careful. I don’t want any glass broken.’ They all hurried out of the dining room but got no further than the door when Nancy shouted, ‘Wait, children. You can’t all go storming down at once.’ She chose Martha and Billy to go downstairs and collect the milk.

  As soon as they were down the stairs they hurried along to the chapel to carry out the first part of their plan. They put their ears to the door and heard the sound of the nuns in prayer.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Martha, ‘we’ll have to come back later.’ Billy’s face fell. ‘Don’t worry, we promised to help and we will,’ Martha told him. They walked slowly up the nursery stairs trying to work out how they would get into the chapel unseen later on. Martha had just put her hand out to open the nursery door when Billy shouted, ‘We forgot the milk!’ They turned and ran down the stairs to the kitchen.