June went straight to Matron’s office and knocked.
‘Enter.’
June turned the handle and opened the door to Matron’s office. The room was so full of smoke she could hardly make out the figure sitting behind the desk. Matron had an accounts book open and was reading the figures, but June had the distinct feeling the woman didn’t understand them from the way she was flicking the pages back and forth. June cleared her throat in a pointed way. Matron looked up.
‘Oh, there you are, Miss Lavender. You can be seated.’
June sat with her hands quietly folded in her lap, determined not to be intimidated by the woman. She drew in a deep breath, wondering what was coming.
‘Hilda Jackson has put in a complaint about you which I take very seriously indeed.’
Lizzie.
‘You interfered with one of her special charges, Lizzie Rae Dixon.’
June opened her mouth.
‘No, Miss Lavender. I would prefer not to hear any excuses. Hilda has explained exactly what happened. The child needs special attention and Hilda has been assigned to give it to her. She did not take kindly to your interference and I will not tolerate such behaviour. You are not to go up to the nursery again, do you hear me?’
‘Matron, I didn’t interfere, as you call it. I just—’
‘Silence!’ Matron slapped her hand hard on her desk. ‘I will also not tolerate such rudeness. I shall be keeping a close eye on you, so watch your step in future, Miss.’ She snapped the accounts book closed. ‘You are dismissed.’
June bit her lip in fury to stop herself making a retort. How dare Matron speak to her as though she were a naughty child. If she’d only let her tell her side of the story. How Hilda did the complete opposite of giving the little girl attention and love which the child was crying out for. Leaving her completely on her own while she went down to the dining room and ate her own dinner, and then bringing a plate back for Lizzie. The child could get up to anything in those twenty minutes. No, Hilda was not the right person to be put in charge of her. But how on earth was she ever going to convince Matron? But whatever Matron threatened, June was determined she was going to try to talk to Lizzie again. To break through that wall of silence.
The only place Lizzie would go outside the nursery was into the kitchen with Cook. That was the best place to talk to her, June thought, because at least Bertie had shown the child kindness. But she couldn’t risk Matron’s temper if she went to see Lizzie in work time. No, she’d leave it until her next day off. Then she could do what she liked. Go into the kitchen and have a cup of tea with Bertie if the cook wasn’t too busy and maybe Lizzie would be there. Even so, it wouldn’t be easy. The child was suspicious of everyone, it seemed, with the possible exception of Cook.
June fell into bed, exhausted by the children. It was as though they sapped all feeling, all strength, until her head spun. But at least she now knew their names. The worst of it was she already had favourites. She’d been determined not to. It wasn’t fair on the others. But who could resist little Betsy with her skin the colour of treacle and her dark-brown eyes which she used in a comic fashion when she wanted to make you laugh? June couldn’t help smiling at the vision. And Harvey with his mocking grin and legs that showed recent scars, which could only have come from someone beating him. He bragged he could play any tune you asked for on the mouth organ, and so far he’d never wavered. Then there was quiet little Janet, a shy plump child with an extraordinary vocabulary for an eight-year-old. She’d sit for hours making tiny books and writing and drawing in them.
The children took her mind off painful memories. But June always came back to Lizzie.
Once or twice June had been tempted to remind Iris about the dance, but decided her friend would immediately tease her that she was looking for a man. She momentarily closed her eyes. A certain face whose image refused to go away. A strong face with the bluest eyes that crinkled when he laughed. The cleft in his chin like Cary Grant’s. The shiny hair, the colour of a tawny lion. You see, it’s happening right this minute, she berated herself, trying to push his image away. She was being ridiculous. Their encounters would have meant nothing more to him than a brief exchange of pleasantries. Actually, that first time on the train was more of a battle. She couldn’t help smiling at the memory, and Iris, who was collecting the dirty supper dishes, caught the smile and grinned back.
‘Penny for them.’
June went pink.
‘Ah, I thought so,’ Iris said, nodding sagely. ‘It’s the RAF chap. Well, the only way you’re going to see him again is if we go to the dance on Saturday. The girls in the kitchen aren’t going as it’s an officers’ do and they don’t feel comfortable with them, even though they admit they look gorgeous in their uniform. But they prefer the soldiers.’ She gave June a sharp look. ‘What’s the matter? You’re very quiet all of a sudden.’
‘I’m not sure I’ll feel comfortable with a load of posh officers.’
‘Posh?’ Iris threw back her head and roared. ‘You should hear some of them. Granted, they might talk hoity-toity but believe me, we’re just as good as them any day of the week.’
‘All right, you’ve convinced me,’ June said, grinning. ‘And maybe one of these days I’ll surprise you and take you up on that offer of a cigarette. I’ve never tried one but everyone else seems to enjoy it. Maybe it’s time I did something different.’
She didn’t know what made her say this. Smoking was something that had never appealed, but in her new job at Bingham Hall she badly wanted to fit in.
Her eyes gleaming with mischief, Iris gave June a sly nudge. ‘That’s my girl. We’ll give it a go this evening. I’ll get Gilbert to light the fire early in the common room so we’ll be nice and cosy and can have a girls’ natter. There shouldn’t be anyone in there tonight as they’ve nearly all signed up for Barbara’s new evening art class.’
June changed her mind a dozen times as to whether she should go with Iris to the dance or not. She really didn’t have anything to wear such as a party dress, as she hadn’t envisaged needing one. And even if she had, she didn’t have the coupons or the money to buy something that wasn’t practical – something she’d hardly ever wear.
‘You’re coming, and that’s all there is to it,’ Iris said as they sat in the common room drinking a cup of tea.
They were on their own except for Athena, who had her head in a book and didn’t seem to be taking any notice of their conversation.
‘What will you wear?’ June posed the question to Iris, half dreading her friend would come up with something really glamorous.
‘I’m going to wear my navy spotted dress with white collar and cuffs. I bought it before the war so it’s not new, if that’s what you’re thinking.’ She turned her sapphire-coloured eyes to June. ‘You don’t need to worry about wearing sequins for the dance. The chaps are just grateful to see any woman, whether she’s in uniform or just come off the land smelling of manure with corn sticking out of her hair and a bag of turnips in her arms.’
June couldn’t help laughing. ‘Gosh, they must be desperate.’
‘I think some of them are.’ Iris’s expression was suddenly serious. ‘These boys really see life – and it’s often extremely unpleasant with your friends getting injured and blown up at any time. So a dance means more to them than we’ll ever know. They always seem optimistic that they just might meet the girl of their dreams. Even if it’s only someone who’ll write to them when they’re abroad to stop them going mad. Can you imagine their lives – flying around trying to shoot down Germans and desperately trying not to get killed themselves?’
‘I can’t.’ June felt sick at the idea. Murray’s face flitted across her mind.