‘Yes, of course.’
Lana hesitated. ‘Before you go, Mrs Taylor, there’s something I’d like to ask you. It’s about Priscilla Morgan.’
There was a pause at the other end. ‘Ah, Priscilla. She hasn’t been with us long. A very sad case.’
‘Yes. The worrying thing is that she can’t come to terms with the accident. Both parents gone at once and she’s lost her home as well. She told me she’s waiting for them to come and fetch her. I tried to tell her as gently as I could that they were never coming back, but she was terribly upset and rushed off. It must be dreadful for her and I’m not sure how I can help. I wondered how she was coping at the orphanage.’
‘She’s very quiet and very good,’ Mrs Taylor said. ‘Too good. It’s not natural. I’ve tried to talk to her – we all have – but she won’t listen. We’re hoping time will be the healer.’
Lana bit her lip. It was well over a year since she’d lost Dickie and the ache was as strong as ever. But they were discussing Priscilla.
‘It might be a good idea for us to have a proper chat after the maypole dance,’ Mrs Taylor said. ‘Another month will have passed and we can assess the situation. How does she seem with the other children in class?’
‘She sits away from the others in her own world, mostly staring out of the window. Neither she nor the rest of the children take any notice of one another.’
‘I wonder if she should see a doctor,’ the matron said in a thoughtful tone. ‘I must admit I’m as worried as you, especially as she’s still eating very little at supper. What about dinnertime at the school? Does she—’
There was a loud crackling on the line and Lana couldn’t hear the matron’s next words.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch—’
The line went dead. Lana thought of asking Mrs Danvers to reconnect her but couldn’t face the secretary’s sneering tone, as though she couldn’t even take a simple telephone call.
She spent the next two hours sick with guilt, wishing with all her heart she hadn’t upset Priscilla. She should have got to know her better, gained her trust. Suddenly it had become unbearably stuffy in her office. She switched off the two electric bars of the heater and threw on her jacket. A brisk walk would clear her head.
Before the week was out Lana felt at home at Bingham school. In the main, the children were good, though the boys were somewhat raucous when they thought they could get away with it, which had the effect of making the girls quieter. Except Josephine, a cheeky ten-year-old. She interrupted whenever she felt like it. More than once Lana noticed Priscilla frowning at yet another interruption.
‘Please put your hand up if you want to ask or answer a question,’ Lana said to Josephine. ‘Other children want to ask questions besides you.’
The girl immediately swung both arms in the air. Another child who craved attention.
‘Only one hand is necessary,’ Lana said. ‘Keep the question in your head and I’ll come back to you. I believe Martin put his hand up before you.’
She nodded to Martin, but before he could open his mouth, Josephine said, ‘No, I put my hand up first, Miss …’
‘You will await your turn, Jennifer. And you will address me by my name.’
‘I’ve forgotten it.’ Jennifer’s tone was triumphant as she looked round at the class for approbation.
Fuming, Lana beckoned Josephine up to her desk to a class of sniggering children. She turned to the child.
‘Now, Josephine. Perhaps you would like to tell the class that you have a very poor memory and have already forgotten my name. And after class you will write my name out fifty times on your slate before you go home. And I have two more slates you can use as extras so there is no excuse the lines won’t all fit.’
Josephine tapped her shoe up and down as she boldly surveyed Lana.
‘Shall I remind you of my name?’ Lana said evenly.
The child hesitated as though about to say something insolent, but decided against it. ‘No, Miss.’
‘Then would you like to remind the class in case anyone else has forgotten?’
‘It’s Miss Ashwin.’ Josephine’s chest rose with her breath. ‘MISS ASHWIN!’ Her voice rose to a shout as she faced the class.
Giggles from the girls and more sniggers from the boys.
‘Very well,’ Lana said, putting a piece of chalk down by the blackboard. ‘That’s enough. You may go back to your seat. And I don’t want to hear another word from you until class tomorrow.’
Josephine made her way to her desk, then glared at Lana.
‘You never tell her off.’ The child pointed to Priscilla. ‘Prissy gets away with everything. She doesn’t do her homework and she can’t keep up with us in class even though she’s older than us. No one likes her here.’
There was a deathly hush. And then a loud scraping of a chair by the window. Before she had time to stop her, Priscilla had sprung up, grabbed her satchel and rushed out of the room.
‘I hope you’re satisfied now, Josephine,’ Lana said. ‘You will stay behind and explain yourself before you do your lines.’ She threw a glance around the room. ‘We’re finished for the day, children. You may go.’ She waited until the children had disappeared and only Josephine was left, standing sulkily beside the desk.
‘Sit down in one of the front seats,’ Lana said, taking her chair and moving it nearer to Josephine. It was easier not having a desk as a barrier between them, she thought.
‘Now, then. What made you speak in such an unkind way about another pupil?’
Josephine sniffed.
‘Have you a handkerchief?’
‘No, Miss.’
Lana dug in her bag and handed the girl a neatly folded one. She waited patiently. ‘Well, Josephine?’
‘No one likes Prissy, only no one’s brave enough to say it ’cept me.’
‘You mean Priscilla?’
‘We all call her Prissy because she’s such a fusspot. She tidies her desk after every lesson. We all know she’s stupid because she’s always bottom.’
‘No, she’s not stupid. She’s just a very sad little girl. And she needs help. I think you might be just the person.’
‘What do you mean? I don’t even like her.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because she thinks she’s better than us so she doesn’t speak to us. So we do the same.’
‘It’s not that at all,’ Lana said. ‘It’s because she’s embarrassed and angry with herself.’
‘Because she’s stupid.’
‘Don’t say that word again, please,’ Lana said sharply. ‘She’s not stupid.’ She looked at the girl. ‘Do you have a mother and father, Josephine?’
‘Course I do.’
‘Then you’re very lucky. One day Priscilla had her own bedroom at home and a loving mother and father. The next she was told they’d been killed in the blackout and she had to go and live at the orphanage down the road. It’s extremely difficult for her, and you and the others are making it worse by not speaking to her, or including her in your games. I want this to change.’ All this time Lana kept her focus on Josephine who looked shocked and upset at the same time. ‘Can you understand what I’m saying, Josephine?’
The girl hung