Miss Purdy's Class (55 page)

‘You poor little chap, what’s happened to you?’ she whispered. Tears filled her eyes once more as she stood looking down at him. The state of him! He was nothing but a bag of bones.

She wiped her eyes and knelt down beside the bed.

‘Joey?’

There was no response. She could not see him breathing and, fearful, she hurried to check his pulse. But he was alive: she could feel a regular flickering through the veins. Gently she touched his hand, wrapping her fingers round his curled ones.

‘Can you hear me? It’s Miss Purdy.’

He seemed to breathe more deeply, like a little sigh.

‘I’ve come to take you home, but they say you’re too poorly. But I’ll come back for you. All your class mates have missed you, you know – Ron and all the others. They’ll be ever so glad to see you.’

She wondered if he could hear a thing she was saying. She looked at him, filled with gloom suddenly. Maybe he was too far gone. It looked as if he wasn’t going to make it.

‘Joey? It’s Miss Purdy.’

And then she felt it. A movement in the wasted little hand, which gripped, at first almost imperceptibly round her finger, then clung on with a force which took her by surprise.

She knew then, with a certainty which filled her with dread, that she couldn’t leave him here. He couldn’t be abandoned yet again. Not surrounded by all these strangers, dying old men with phlegmy chests. How could he ever really know for sure that she was coming back? She knelt there full of tension, trying to decide what to do.

‘Joey, listen to me,’ she whispered. ‘The matron says you should stay here because you’re not very well. But if you want to go today, I’ll take you with me. We’ll manage it somehow.’

For the first time, his eyelids flickered. He did not speak, but the huge eyes looked at her suddenly with such urgent intensity that she knew the answer. Whatever the matron thought about it, they were going home. She was not leaving without him.

By the time the train pulled into Birmingham it had long been dark. She had argued her case with the matron, who caved in without too much protest, especially when Gwen pressed a ten shilling note into her hand. Joey was dressed in a roughly sewn sort of nightdress of coarse cotton, which was far too long so that it covered his feet, but not nearly warm enough for the October weather outside. Gwen paid the matron more to take the blanket from his bed to wrap him in. She bundled him up carefully and they went in a taxi to Wallingford Station. He was as light as a paper kite in her arms.

On the way back to Birmingham they found themselves near a kind, middle-aged lady, who introduced herself as a nurse, and helped Gwen to feed Joey a little of the milk diluted with water the matron had given her in a jam jar. It was a struggle to get him to take anything because he was barely conscious.

‘His system won’t be able to take too much at first,’ she said. ‘When you get home you’d be almost better off using a baby’s bottle to begin with. You’ll need to go very gradually. Dear me, what an awful thing – and in this country too! Where are you taking him to?’

‘Well, I’ve got lodgings in Handsworth. My landlady was a bit unsure, but she said I can take him back there at least for now. She’s not really used to children, you see.’

‘He’s not going to cause any trouble for a while, the state he’s in, is he?’

When they got out at New Street Station, the woman helped Gwen lift Joey into a taxi.

‘You can’t possibly manage on the tram!’ she said. ‘Now let me give you a contribution to the fare. I think you’re a very kind person indeed.’

She thrust a couple of half crowns into Gwen’s pocket and barely waited to be thanked.

When the taxi reached Ariadne’s house, she had evidently been waiting on tenterhooks.

‘My dear – at last!’ she cried as the door opened. Seeing Joey in Gwen’s arms, her hands went dramatically to her face. ‘Oh, my word! Oh, look at that little mite. The state of him! Don’t you think he should be in the hospital? He looks . . . well, he doesn’t look as if he’ll last the night.’

‘I think I should put him to bed,’ Gwen suggested.

‘Oh yes – of course! I’ve got the little room up at the back ready . . .’

It was no more than a boxroom, but there was a bed squeezed in which Ariadne had made up for him. Gwen told Ariadne of the help the nurse had given her and her suggestion about the baby bottle.

‘I’ll get one tomorrow,’ Ariadne said. They were both talking softly. She kept staring down at the tiny, frail figure in the bed, seemingly unable to get over the sight of him. ‘He’s really rather beautiful, isn’t he?’

‘I’m very sorry, Ariadne. Maybe you’re right about the hospital. I was so worked up about just getting him out of the workhouse and back here I hadn’t thought how much work it’s going to be looking after him . . . It’s too much to expect you . . .’

‘Oh, don’t say that,’ Ariadne burst out. She sounded really upset. ‘No one ever expects anything of me – that’s the trouble! They never have. And what have I ever done with my life, really? I mean I know I wasn’t sure about him coming. I’ve no real knowledge of children – never had the chance. But I’ll try – I want to! Poor little lad. It’s the least I can do!’

Gwen hesitated, then dared to take Ariadne’s hand for a moment. It was knobbly with all her rings, and Gwen gave it a gentle squeeze.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You’re so kind.’

Fifty-Four

‘Ron – stay behind a moment, please!’

The rest of the class were hurrying out for their first breaktime the next morning.

Ron came over to her desk and Gwen was disturbed to see a hunted expression in his eyes. It made her angry. He had always been such a carefree, sunny sort of boy. Whatever had been going on that afternoon in Mr Lowry’s office, and the treatment he received as a result, seemed to have left him in a state of anxiety.

‘Shut the door, Doreen!’ she called to the last departing child, then smiled reassuringly at Ron. ‘It’s all right. You haven’t done anything wrong.’ He looked up at her in a hangdog fashion and she weighed up in her mind whether to say anything. The consequences of the headmaster’s behaviour had affected Charlotte Rowley (though Gwen had very little sympathy for her) and Ron – not himself. How typical that was, she thought. She was on dangerous ground, she knew, saying anything against another member of staff to a pupil, but this was a question of justice.

‘Look, Ron – all that’s happened this term – nothing was your fault. It wasn’t fair, and you shouldn’t have to keep worrying. Try and put it behind you, eh?’

‘Yes, Miss.’ He stared at the ground, not seeming cheered by this.

‘I’ve got some news to tell you. Good news.’

He looked up at her.

‘I went down south yesterday. That’s why I wasn’t here.’ She could feel her smile broadening. ‘And guess who I brought back?’

Ron’s brow furrowed.

‘He’s very poorly at the moment and won’t be up to playing out for a long time. But tucked up in bed in the house where I live is your pal Joey.’

Ron looked blank for a moment, then his eyebrows shot up.

‘Joey Phillips?’

Gwen nodded, delighted to see a smile spread across Ron’s face once more. And some white teeth.

‘Is he coming back to school, Miss?’

‘Well, I hope so – eventually. He’s got a lot of resting to do first, before he’s well enough. But in a little while, a few days perhaps, I hope you’ll be able to come round and see him.’

Ron was grinning now. ‘That’s bostin, Miss!’

Ariadne was a devoted, if rather agitated nurse. All Gwen could feel towards her was gratitude. Her life became centred round nursing Joey Phillips back to health. As she said, what else could they have done with the poor little mite? After all the lengths he had gone to to escape the orphanage, they could hardly just pack him back there now.

For the first few days, Joey lay fading in and out of consciousness. They managed to get him to drink a little: water with glucose powder, some diluted milk. He could manage to drink better soon, and open his eyes, and as soon as he had swallowed a few mouthfuls he would slip back into his long sleep again. Despite the doctor’s advice just to keep him safe and warm, Gwen was worried, wondering if he should be in hospital, but to her surprise Ariadne took it all calmly.

‘Do him good,’ she said, tucking the blankets round him. ‘Sleep is a great healer. And the doctor said we’re doing all that can be done.’

‘He reminds me of something in hibernation,’ Gwen said. ‘Like a hedgehog.’

As the days passed he became able to take more: milk with an egg whisked into it, and some thin soup. He was obviously going to get better. But although he was awake quite a lot, lying looking round the bright pink painted room, he barely ever said a word.

‘D’you know,’ Ariadne told Gwen, ‘when you come into the room, his eyes never leave you, not for a moment.’

Joey was almost all their conversation now. Ariadne had taken to wearing flatter shoes so she could hurry up and downstairs easily, and her porridge making had come on no end. She often sat beside Joey, reading him stray snippets out of the daily papers.

By the end of the second week, Gwen told Ron he could come and visit after school and asked him to tell his mother where they were going.

‘Just for a few minutes,’ she said. ‘He’s ever so weak still, you see. He’s not saying much. But I’m sure he’d be pleased to see you.’

She thought about asking Lucy if she’d like to come as well. Lucy had had another fit in class earlier in the week and Gwen thought it might be nice for her to feel chosen for something special. She felt awkward about it, though, not sure if Lucy knew of the rift between herself and Daniel, but the child showed no sign of it. The march was over – Gwen had read in the papers about the gathering in Hyde Park, the speeches. Aneurin Bevan had visited the marchers when they were sleeping in Reading cattle market and addressed them there. No one was sure if it was going to make any difference to anything. She didn’t know where Daniel was, and was on pins in case he suddenly appeared to meet Lucy. She had said to him that she didn’t want to see him, but she could hardly prevent him from living in the same neighbourhood as the school, could she? But the thought of seeing him again was very painful.

‘Is Daniel home now?’ she asked Lucy casually as they sat on the tram.

Lucy shook her head. She had a white Alice band holding back her long hair.

‘He went back with the other marchers. I think he’s coming soon.’

Ariadne had bought iced buns and lemonade for Ron and Lucy and laid the table with a lacy cloth. Gwen could see both the children looking round, overwhelmed by the big, cluttered house and Ariadne’s fussing attention.

‘I’ll take them up to Joey before they have anything to eat, shall I?’ Gwen said.

They followed her up, Lucy laboriously hauling her calipered leg up each step, and went into Joey’s room. He was awake, and stared at them all as they came in. Gwen thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes, but otherwise he remained expressionless.

Of course, the children found it difficult to know what to say.

Lucy said quietly, ‘Hello, Joey. You all right?’

Ron was tugging at something in his pocket. He produced a squashed little brown paper bag.

‘Here y’are, pal. Brought yer some rocks.’

He sounded so gruff and grandfatherly as he spoke that Gwen found herself smiling. Ron laid the bag of sweets on Joey’s bed. There was a silence.

‘I’m Ron,’ Ron said. ‘From school. D’you remember us?’

Gwen watched Joey’s face. He said nothing, but his expression was not blank. She could tell there were thoughts going on.

‘Well,’ Ron said. ‘Sorry you’re bad. I hope you’re coming back to school soon. Weren’t the same after you went.’

There were no words, but Gwen saw something she had not seen before. There was a slight twitching round Joey’s lips and, for the first time, a light in his eyes.

‘Says here the king’s been in Wales,’ Ariadne said over tea one night. As usual she had a newspaper open on the table. King Edward had visited South Wales after the Hunger March.

‘“Something must be done,” he said,’ Ariadne read. ‘D’you know, it says here that
three-quarters
of the people in Merthyr Tydfil are on poor relief!’

‘Yes,’ Gwen said. ‘Things are in a bad way there.’

Ariadne considered her across the table and said tragically, ‘The least thing makes you think of
him
, doesn’t it?’

Gwen kept her eyes on her plate of macaroni cheese. They had cooked it together. ‘Yes.’ It was no good pretending otherwise. She was so hurt that she wanted all thoughts of Daniel just to fade from her mind. Instead, he kept coming back to her. Ariadne was right. Any thought she had of Lucy or Billy made her think of him. And she couldn’t forget, longed for things to be otherwise, for her to be able to trust him. But she couldn’t and that was the truth of it. And yet she couldn’t get past him either, couldn’t get over him and feel better.

She swallowed down the lump in her throat. ‘I’ve just got to stop thinking of him, that’s all.’

It was getting close to the end of November. The weather was damp and unpleasant, but in spite of that Joey was getting better every day. He was still weak, but he was gaining weight, and once on a good diet, proved extremely resilient. He was soon able to get up and start moving about.

One Saturday afternoon Gwen sat with him up in his room, teaching him to play snakes and ladders. He was very withdrawn and she could still hardly get him to say anything at all. Trying to keep his attention focused on anything was difficult too.

‘There –’ Gwen pointed at the board – ‘you’ve landed on a ladder. You can move right up there, look.’

Joey peered at it and solemnly moved his counter up the ladder, pressing his finger hard onto it.

‘Joey?’

He looked up at her but wouldn’t quite meet her eye.

‘Can you remember your school? The class – Ron and Lucy and the others?’

Joey nodded.

‘Would you like to go back to school one day?’

There was a faint shake of his head.