out the new pyjamas they’d bought only that morning. ‘Will I come and tuck you up when you’re into bed?’ she whispered, as she kissed her.
‘Yes, please.’
It was longer than she intended before Polly got back upstairs to tuck Clare in. By then Clare was fast asleep. Polly noticed that she had fallen asleep clutching Ronnie’s copy of The Swiss Family Robinson. What Polly didn’t notice was that the pillow below the much-loved book was sodden with tears.
Clare woke next morning refreshed in body but sadly depressed in spirits. As she lay looking up at the unfamiliar ceiling, she listened to the sounds of the household as it began its morning round.
‘What’s keepin’ you in there? I haven’t all day to stan’ here.’
She recognised the voice though she had not seen its owner for a long time. Davy must have been out with his girlfriend last night. There was a hasty but muffled reply from the bathroom. Later, the door banged and there were trampings up and down the stairs. Clare would have liked to go to the lavatory but the thought of bumping into Davy or Eddie intimidated her so she waited till all was quiet before she slipped out of her room and across the landing.
On her way back she saw that the two older boys had left the door of their bedroom, the largest bedroom of the three, wide open. The beds were unmade. Beside each bed a high-backed chair was draped with clothes which spilt down onto the floor which was already covered with random shoes and odd socks. Surely they tidied up before they went to work. Even William, who was not the tidiest of little boys, knew not to leave shoes for someone to trip over.
As she walked away from the open door it dawned on Clare that Auntie Polly and Uncle Jimmy must sleep downstairs. That big settee, onwhich she and William had perched at Christmas, must be one of those put-you-ups she had heard Mummy and Daddy talking about. Poor Auntie Polly. She had the living room to clear every morning before breakfast and then all this mess waiting upstairs even before she started her sewing. Mummy would be so upset when she told her how Davy and Eddie behaved.
And then she remembered she wouldn’t be telling Mummy. She knew she could manage Davy and Eddie for a week if she was going home at the end of it, but she wasn’t going home. She had been so looking forward to seeing Ronnie but now she thought about sleeping in the tiny sewing room and walking down to that bus-stop, past all those houses, and going to that awful school with no playground and no trees for ever and ever amen.
She climbed back into bed and buried her head under the bedclothes so that no one would hear her cry. It was no use, no use at all. However kind Aunt Polly was, she couldn’t live here with these large figures and their loud voices and all these grey houses. She’d far rather go to the orphanage. At least in the orphanage there’d be other children and she’d have a teddy bear.
When the lady from Dr Barnardo’s had come to school to receive all the money from their collecting boxes, she’d brought pictures of the children to show to them. They looked so happyplaying together in a garden with a swing. They each had a little bed and there were toys and books beside each one.
She made up her mind, came out from under the bedclothes and started to get dressed. She’d just have to explain politely to Auntie Polly that she really couldn’t impose on her kindness and could she take her to the orphanage right away.
CHAPTER FOUR
Whenever Polly McGillvray looked back on the weeks that followed her sister Ellie’s death, she wondered how she had found the strength to go on during that awful time. In those weeks she came to know a despair that was quite new to her. There were moments when the woman who had always seen herself as easy going and optimistic was shocked to find that she would be only too grateful to join her sister under a mound of flowers.
It was not that Polly expected
‘Yes, please.’
It was longer than she intended before Polly got back upstairs to tuck Clare in. By then Clare was fast asleep. Polly noticed that she had fallen asleep clutching Ronnie’s copy of The Swiss Family Robinson. What Polly didn’t notice was that the pillow below the much-loved book was sodden with tears.
Clare woke next morning refreshed in body but sadly depressed in spirits. As she lay looking up at the unfamiliar ceiling, she listened to the sounds of the household as it began its morning round.
‘What’s keepin’ you in there? I haven’t all day to stan’ here.’
She recognised the voice though she had not seen its owner for a long time. Davy must have been out with his girlfriend last night. There was a hasty but muffled reply from the bathroom. Later, the door banged and there were trampings up and down the stairs. Clare would have liked to go to the lavatory but the thought of bumping into Davy or Eddie intimidated her so she waited till all was quiet before she slipped out of her room and across the landing.
On her way back she saw that the two older boys had left the door of their bedroom, the largest bedroom of the three, wide open. The beds were unmade. Beside each bed a high-backed chair was draped with clothes which spilt down onto the floor which was already covered with random shoes and odd socks. Surely they tidied up before they went to work. Even William, who was not the tidiest of little boys, knew not to leave shoes for someone to trip over.
As she walked away from the open door it dawned on Clare that Auntie Polly and Uncle Jimmy must sleep downstairs. That big settee, onwhich she and William had perched at Christmas, must be one of those put-you-ups she had heard Mummy and Daddy talking about. Poor Auntie Polly. She had the living room to clear every morning before breakfast and then all this mess waiting upstairs even before she started her sewing. Mummy would be so upset when she told her how Davy and Eddie behaved.
And then she remembered she wouldn’t be telling Mummy. She knew she could manage Davy and Eddie for a week if she was going home at the end of it, but she wasn’t going home. She had been so looking forward to seeing Ronnie but now she thought about sleeping in the tiny sewing room and walking down to that bus-stop, past all those houses, and going to that awful school with no playground and no trees for ever and ever amen.
She climbed back into bed and buried her head under the bedclothes so that no one would hear her cry. It was no use, no use at all. However kind Aunt Polly was, she couldn’t live here with these large figures and their loud voices and all these grey houses. She’d far rather go to the orphanage. At least in the orphanage there’d be other children and she’d have a teddy bear.
When the lady from Dr Barnardo’s had come to school to receive all the money from their collecting boxes, she’d brought pictures of the children to show to them. They looked so happyplaying together in a garden with a swing. They each had a little bed and there were toys and books beside each one.
She made up her mind, came out from under the bedclothes and started to get dressed. She’d just have to explain politely to Auntie Polly that she really couldn’t impose on her kindness and could she take her to the orphanage right away.
CHAPTER FOUR
Whenever Polly McGillvray looked back on the weeks that followed her sister Ellie’s death, she wondered how she had found the strength to go on during that awful time. In those weeks she came to know a despair that was quite new to her. There were moments when the woman who had always seen herself as easy going and optimistic was shocked to find that she would be only too grateful to join her sister under a mound of flowers.
It was not that Polly expected
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