June heaved open the front door and the two of them were about to slip outside when a tobacco-riven voice behind her made her jump.
‘Where might you be going with the dumb child?’
She turned. Blast! Gilbert. Why was he so interfering? June fought down a bubble of anger. Calling Lizzie a dumb child in that contemptuous tone of voice. She felt Lizzie cling even harder to her hand. Whatever Gilbert had to say, she would not be intimidated.
‘Lizzie’ – she emphasised the little girl’s name – ‘is cooped up in the nursery every day. We’re going for a walk.’
‘And who’s given you permission to take her outdoors?’ Gilbert might have been short, but his steely eyes under bushy brows were menacing.
Who did he think he was, questioning her decision on the child’s well-being?
‘I’m not sure your question requires an answer,’ she heard herself replying, and, practically dragging Lizzie, she slipped out of the door.
‘We’ll go round the side,’ June told Lizzie, ‘so no one can see us. We’re going to build a lovely snowman.’ She looked down at Lizzie, who was gazing around her as though she’d never seen the garden before. ‘Lizzie, have you ever built a snowman?’
Tears flooded Lizzie’s eyes as she nodded.
Poor little soul. She’d probably built one with her brother when they’d last had snow. June scooped up a ball of snow and then another, and pressed it down firmly. Soon Lizzie began to bring her own small balls of snow to place on the body. June glanced over her shoulder at the little girl. Already she had a pink tinge to her cheeks and her eyes had lost their dull expression.
They made a head and stuck it on the top. ‘I know he doesn’t look anything much at the moment, Lizzie,’ June said, ‘but I’ll ask Cook for a carrot for his nose and get two pieces of coal from the bunker for his eyes. I’ll have to think about his mouth. Then we need an old hat and scarf, and maybe some more bits of coal for his buttons down his coat.’ She noticed with satisfaction that Lizzie was hanging on to her every word. ‘Do you think you can help me collect all the things we need?’
Lizzie nodded.
‘Maybe when the snowman has a face and is dressed you might be able to say hello to him. What do you think?’
Lizzie’s little face immediately dropped.
‘Don’t worry, Lizzie. It doesn’t matter. But I know he’d be awfully pleased if you could say something to him.’
Lizzie looked up at her and opened her mouth. In that instant June was certain Lizzie was about to speak. Then she pressed her lips even more tightly together. But somehow June felt there had been a lot of progress made in only – she looked at her watch. Oh, no. They’d been gone for nearly three-quarters of an hour. Hilda would definitely have reported her to Matron, who would be furious.
‘And where do you think you’ve been, Miss Lavender?’ Matron, her voice enunciating every word, barricaded the door as June tried to look as though it was normal for her and Lizzie to be out in the snow together.
‘I thought Lizzie should get some fresh air – she’s so pale. And she’s helped me build a snowman. I’m so encouraged that she’s joined in with something all children love making … and she really enjoyed doing it.’ June knew she was gabbling.
Matron drew herself up and threw back her shoulders. Her head and bosom trembled with fury.
‘You will not take Lizzie out of the house ever again. She hasn’t even got a coat on. If she catches her death it will be your fault, my girl.’
‘Honestly, Matron, we’ve been working and moving around. She’s not a bit cold with her jacket and—’
‘Silence! In you go this minute. You, child, come with me. You’re off upstairs – Hilda’s waiting to take you back to the nursery.’
Lizzie broke into sobs and looked up at June who could cheerfully have throttled Matron. There wasn’t a shred of kindness in the woman – she couldn’t even bring herself to say Lizzie’s name. Matron stretched out her hand for Lizzie, who sobbed even harder and hung on to June.
‘She was so happy outside,’ June told the angry woman. ‘At least let me take her upstairs myself.’
‘Certainly not. And if I have any more nonsense like this, I shall send you packing. One more time …’ Matron swiftly ducked and grabbed Lizzie’s arm, forcing her to let go of June. The little girl screamed and Kathleen rushed into the hall.
‘What’s going on?’ The nurse looked from Matron to June, and down at Lizzie, who was crying uncontrollably. ‘Lizzie seems very upset, Matron.’
‘You can blame Miss Lavender for that, Nurse.’
June opened her mouth to say something in her defence but stopped as Kathleen shook her head in warning.
‘Let me help by taking her jacket and washing her hands ready for dinner,’ Kathleen said.
‘Where’s Hilda?’ Matron’s angry eyes swept round the empty hall.
‘She’s gone to lie down. The shock, I expect, from the bite. I’ve dabbed some TCP on it. She’ll be fine.’
Matron hesitated and June was sure she was trying to work out what to do to save face, not necessarily what was best for the child. She was obviously reluctant to let Lizzie out of her clutches but Kathleen ignored her and calmly held out her hand.
Lizzie snatched her hand away from Matron’s and took Kathleen’s, but not before she’d turned round to June and given her the smallest sweetest smile.
Throughout the rest of the day June fumed. Not for the first time did she think Matron was unsuitable for such a responsible job. It was clear Lizzie needed careful handling before she would start speaking again. If only Matron would have let her explain how happy Lizzie had been helping to make the snowman, and how disappointed she’d be if she wasn’t allowed to go out tomorrow and finish him. June drew her lips tightly together. At least Kathleen had rescued poor Lizzie. And she had seen Lizzie smile for the first time in the week June had been at the home. That was surely a good omen.
Kathleen and Iris were already in the common room when June went in that evening after supper. She’d had no time to tell them what had happened as Matron had kept her busy all day long cleaning the narrow windows in the children’s dormitories, mopping the floors, sweeping and dusting. Not that she minded doing these jobs but there were two competent cleaners who came every day from the village, and she was, after all, supposed to be Matron’s assistant. She had a feeling Matron was deliberately not letting her near the children as a kind of punishment.
June shivered as the cold air greeted her even though there was a fire burning. Mr Gilbert never lit it until five o’clock so the room hadn’t had a chance to warm up properly by the time the staff had finished supper and wanted to relax a little after a day’s work. But the two young women’s smiles of welcome more than made up for the chilly atmosphere.
‘You were brave to take Lizzie out,’ Kathleen said, when June had settled into one of the sagging armchairs and was sipping her cup of tea.
‘It was my chance of getting some fresh air into her lungs. She’s so pale. They’re all treating her like an invalid and I believe she’d do so much better if she could be with the others – hear them laughing and talking. Children can accept something unusual like Lizzie not talking if they’re left to it, but until they let her mix with them, Lizzie will take far longer to recover, I’m sure of it.’
‘Did you see the bite mark?’ Kathleen asked.
‘Yes. It wasn’t even a scratch but Hilda acted as though her hand was falling off. She’s not fit to be put in charge of a child like Lizzie – or any child, for that matter.’