The Boy With the Latchkey Read online

  ‘We’ll be going to the sea on Sundays in the summer,’ he’d told Archie. ‘I’ll ask Dad if he’ll let you come with us. I’m sure he will, because he likes you – he says you’ve got a raw deal …’

  Archie hadn’t liked the idea that his friends pitied him. His mother did what she could for him and June, and he wouldn’t have changed her for the world. He just wished things could be as they were when his dad was alive.

  Glancing at the clock again, Archie saw it was half past nine; it wasn’t like Mum to be this late. He hoped she hadn’t had an accident! A cold shiver went right through him as he remembered the terrible day his father had been killed. Mum had cried for days and so had he. June had wept too, but she hadn’t really understood, and she didn’t remember Dad the way Archie did.

  Sighing, he decided to make their suppertime cocoa and take one up to June before he went to bed. She might be asleep, but she was probably still reading that comic …

  Archie felt the panic surge as he realised that his mother hadn’t been in all night. Her bed was just the same; everything was exactly as he’d left it in the kitchen, all the plates and cups on the scrubbed pine table, because he hadn’t bothered to put them back on the painted dresser at the end of the room. Besides, he knew that Mum wouldn’t come home and not let him know. She wasn’t the sort to just stay out all night. Archie’s mum didn’t go with men. He knew for certain she wasn’t like that, and he trusted her implicitly, therefore, something had happened. She must have had an accident …

  Archie felt sick with apprehension as he chivvied June into getting ready for school. She moaned and whined and kept asking where Mum was. He told her that Mum had had to go out and been back very late.

  ‘It’s not fair,’ June said and tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘I want her – why isn’t she here? Mimi’s mum doesn’t work all hours like ours …’

  ‘She has a husband to help her. Mum has to pay the rent on this dump and buy the food and clothes, everything. She can’t help it, June. Come on and get ready. I’m going to take you to school …’

  ‘What about my dinner money?’

  ‘Didn’t you pay that yesterday?’

  ‘Mum said she would give it to me and then she forgot. If I don’t pay today I shan’t get any dinner …’

  ‘I’ll see if there’s any in the pot.’ Archie looked in the old silver-plated teapot that had belonged to Mum’s granny and found there was just ten shillings. ‘How much is it for this week?’

  ‘Three ninepences,’ June said and frowned, her tongue coming out of the corner of her mouth. ‘I don’t know how much that is …’

  ‘It is two shillings and three pennies,’ her brother said. ‘Blimey, June, you ought to know how to add that much up.’

  ‘I can add up if I’ve got a pencil and paper. I do it on my fingers and write it down.’

  Archie had too much on his mind to argue with her. Once he had June in school, he was going to look for Mum. He wasn’t sure where to start, but thought perhaps the best place would be the biscuit factory. If she’d had an accident they would probably know.

  June lagged behind all the way to school. He practically had to push her in the gate and made her promise to wait for him after school.

  ‘I’ll walk you home so just wait in the playground until I get here.’

  June reluctantly promised and ran off to join Mimi and her other friends. Archie sighed. He’d got football today, if only he could get there, but first he had to find Mum …

  CHAPTER 2

  ‘Angela, how lovely to see you,’ Sister Beatrice said, welcoming the woman who had been their Administrator at St Saviour’s for several years, and whom she sadly missed. ‘It seems ages since you visited us …’

  ‘Not for want of trying,’ Angela Adderbury said and smiled. ‘The twins had whooping cough last month, and then I had to pop down and see my father. I told you he hadn’t been well, didn’t I?’ Sister Beatrice nodded. ‘He had a few days in the nursing home and seems much better – and the lady he intends to marry had just taken him in a lovely bowl of fruit.’

  ‘Your father is getting married again?’

  ‘Yes, at last. He and Margaret have been friends for years. After my mother divorced him, he waited for a while before asking her, but I think his illness made his mind up for him. It’s happening next month …’

  ‘Spring is a lovely time for weddings,’ Sister Beatrice said. ‘Are the twins quite well now?’

  ‘Yes, and into everything,’ Angela said. ‘One day I’m going to get time to organise some more fundraising events for you, but at the moment my hands are full. Mark is always offering to help, but although he plays with them in the garden, he’s not good when they’re screaming and acting up. He lectures them about proper behaviour when all they need is a smack on the bottom and they behave. His intentions are good, but he isn’t really into childcare.’

  ‘Mark is a busy man, and children need a lot of patience,’ Sister Beatrice said. ‘I do miss your exciting projects, Angela, but I know Mark and your sons must come first.’

  ‘Things have changed a great deal since we worked together, Sister.’

  ‘Yes, and I’m not convinced they are entirely for the better. I’m sure the government’s intentions were good when they brought us all under the state umbrella, but an institution is only as good as those that run it.’ She paused for thought, and then, ‘It sometimes seems to me that all they’ve given us is miles of red tape. Naturally, we must abide by the government’s new rules, but St Saviour’s was always run with the same principles of love and care as the law provides. We have never given our children cold showers or sent them to bed hungry night after night, or treated them as if they were prisoners in a place of correction. I know that in the past many orphanages did these things, but I should never have been a party to such practices …’

  ‘Nor I,’ Angela agreed, ‘but St Saviour’s was always the gold-standard and the government needed to protect children from the harsh acts of those less caring than you and your staff, Sister Beatrice.’

  ‘Perhaps they ought to remember that when they descend on us for an inspection with scarcely an hour’s warning. So far we’ve had nothing but praise for our care, though they criticise the state of the toilets sometimes, because we’ve had a leak no one seems to be able to fix. They warned us last time that water on cloakroom floors can make them slippery. As if we needed to be told! I have no patience with all this mealy-mouthed nonsense!’

  Her disapproval when speaking of the state supervision was obvious, but since the Children’s Act some years earlier the Children’s Department was taking over more and more and dictated a great many rules and regulations, against which Sister Beatrice had railed bitterly for some time. She, like everyone else, had grown used to the fact that they had to defer to the Children’s Department, who had taken over the new wing for their own purposes, and although Sister Beatrice was given a free hand with the day-to-day running she now had to report anything of importance to the Superintendent next door – a young, and in her oft-spoken opinion, pert woman who was far too inexperienced for the post.

  ‘Well, I’ll find time to organise a dance this summer, I promise – and one day soon the twins will be back at school. Mark says he doesn’t mind looking after them sometimes, but he’s so busy and … actually, I find I enjoy looking after them myself. I suppose we could employ someone to help but just for a while I want to be a full-time mother and wife. I have left them with a friend today; Janni is fond of them and always enjoys having them for a few hours, but I’ll go back on the evening train, because I hate leaving them for too long.’

  ‘I think you’re entirely right,’ Sister Beatrice said. ‘Nothing is more important in my opinion. Have you seen Nan at all?’

  ‘Not since her wedding to Eddie I’m ashamed to say,’ Angela admitted. ‘I sent her a birthday card and we always exchange Christmas cards, but I must try and see her while I’m in town for a couple of days.’
r />   ‘I know she would be delighted to see you,’ Sister Beatrice said. ‘Nan visits me every week, to have a chat and a cup of tea. I’m partial to her cakes and she is very good to me.’

  ‘You’ve been friends for such a long time,’ Angela said. ‘You must miss her terribly?’

  ‘I was always confident that St Saviour’s was in good hands when Nan and you were here,’ Beatrice confided. ‘I still have good people here but it isn’t the same next door – especially in certain regards …’

  ‘Do you have trouble from the girls?’ Angela frowned, because it had caused great controversy when the Children’s Welfare Department had taken over part of St Saviour’s for their disturbed girls. Beatrice herself had resisted the change, but the Board had been told it was necessary to use all facilities to the full and forced to agree.

  ‘I was against it from the start,’ Beatrice said, looking over the gold-rimmed glasses she’d recently started to wear more often. ‘I cannot say that I like this new woman they’ve put in charge either. Her predecessor seemed a sensible woman but this girl is too full of herself …’

  ‘She respects you, doesn’t she?’ Angela looked con-cerned. ‘You are in charge here, Sister Beatrice. Miss Saunders runs her department but in day-to-day matters, you are still responsible for our children. Although under the supervision of the state, we are still an independently run charity. Of course as an employee of the Children’s Welfare Department Miss Saunders does have the authority to override us if she thinks we’re doing something wrong …’

  ‘She would like to take charge of the whole place if she could,’ Beatrice sniffed. ‘She is a very modern young woman, Angela. Not your sort at all, brash and abrasive in my opinion. She may keep good discipline with her girls, and I dare say they need it – but I do not care for all the things she says. She came from a working-class background, as I did myself – but I never was radical in my ideas. Compassion mixed with sense, and morality, is my motto, as you know.’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Angela agreed and Beatrice laughed as she recalled their disagreement over using the cane on children. Angela had been totally against it and Beatrice had come round to her way of thinking.

  ‘You taught me a lot, my dear, and perhaps I shall learn from Ruby Saunders, but at this moment I do not think it.’

  Angela drank her tea and looked thoughtful. ‘If you are really uneasy about her I could have a word with Mark? The Board has some influence with the Welfare Department. It is still early days for them in all honesty. It would be impossible for them to take over every orphanage in the country and run them. They are overwhelmed by sheer numbers and rely on private institutions like ours and Barnardo’s to take some of the strain … and therefore open to a little gentle persuasion now and then.’

  ‘Say nothing at this stage; Miss Saunders has only been in the job a few weeks and I don’t want to undermine her position. I dare say we shall get used to one another in time.’

  ‘I’m sure you will,’ Angela agreed. ‘I bumped into Wendy on my way up. She seems happy here?’

  ‘Yes, she is my only staff nurse at present and a good one. I thought she might marry but when Andre died she seemed to accept that her life was here and, although she has friends, I do not think she will marry.’ Beatrice paused. ‘You must see Muriel while you’re here, Angela. She is always asking after you. I fear she may retire after Christmas so you should take the opportunity to see her.’

  ‘You’ll be sorry to lose her, and the children enjoy her cooking,’ Angela said. ‘You’ve kept several of the staff, haven’t you? Once upon a time we were always having them leave us, but Tilly and Kelly are still here, although I understand Tilly got married last year and works just three days a week?’

  ‘Yes, but that is sufficient most of the time. Nurse Michelle still does a shift two mornings a week, and Nurse Paula comes in as relief when Wendy has her holiday. I’m trying to secure the services of another nurse full-time, but it isn’t easy. You did know that Wendy’s friend in France died of his war wounds in 1950?’

  ‘It was just about five years ago, before I left to have the twins, so yes, I did know,’ Angela said. ‘I think she lost two men to the war and is now a dedicated career nurse.’

  ‘Wendy is my rock,’ Beatrice confirmed. ‘She takes a month’s holiday in France once a year to visit the May twins and her friends there, but the rest of her time is devoted to St Saviour’s so we are very lucky.’

  ‘Extremely,’ Angela agreed. ‘Well, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time, Sister Beatrice. I’ll go and see Muriel and then I’m meeting Mark for lunch.’

  ‘Give him my best regards,’ Beatrice said.

  She took her glasses off and rubbed the bridge of her nose as Angela went out. It was good to talk with old friends and she didn’t see enough of either Angela or Mark, because they lived in the country and were more closely involved with Halfpenny House, which was nearer for Angela to pop in when she had an hour to spare.

  Glancing at the paperwork in front of her, Beatrice sighed. Reports had never been her strong point and Angela had helped her so much with that kind of thing, but life moved on and the years seemed to fly by. However, she had a part-time secretary who came in once a week to keep the accounts straight. She was efficient, and would type up the report that Beatrice had written out, but she just wasn’t Angela. Oh, well, there was no point in trying to hold on to the past.

  ‘Sister Beatrice, may I have a word?’ Sergeant Sallis tapped the door as he put his head round. ‘I just passed Mrs Adderbury on the stairs. She said she thought you might have time to speak to me?’

  ‘Certainly,’ Beatrice said. She’d known him from the time he’d first joined the force and he was still as helpful and polite as he’d been as a constable. ‘What can I do for you, Sergeant?’

  ‘More of the usual,’ he said ruefully. ‘A couple of children in trouble, I’m afraid. The mother is in our cells awaiting trial for embezzling from her firm. She seems a decent woman and I can’t believe she did it, but the evidence is damning and that means the kids are on their own. I spoke to the Children’s Department and they advised bringing them here until something can be sorted out, otherwise they’ll have to leave London. All their resources are stretched to the limit …’

  ‘You want to know if we have a place for the children?’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid I do,’ he said regretfully. ‘I know you’re full to bursting – but the boy is rebellious and if we don’t keep them together I think he will get into serious mischief. He went round to the factory where his mother worked in the office and when they told him she’d been arrested he lost his temper. Threw things about and yelled at the manager – called him a liar. Mind you, I don’t like that Reg Prentice myself.’

  ‘Oh dear, the rebellious ones usually end up next door, at least, if they’re girls.’

  ‘Archie is a decent lad. His neighbours all say he’s done his best to help his mother since his father died, but she was having a hard time of it … They live in a row of slum houses that are hardly fit for habitation, but she kept hers like a new pin inside.’

  ‘Do you think she took the money out of desperation?’

  ‘I’ve spoken to her and I believe she’s innocent, but she’s been committed for trial. The evidence seems to prove her guilt, and money has definitely been taken from the firm – stolen cheques as well as cash from the safe …’

  ‘What will happen to her if she’s convicted?’

  ‘She is previously of good character and if we can get someone to speak up for her, she might get off lightly – but it depends who is taking the case.’

  ‘So the children have no home …’

  ‘Literally,’ Sergeant Sallis agreed. ‘Their house was in any case on the list for demolition and now that the rent hasn’t been paid for a couple of weeks, the landlord intends to board it up ready for the bulldozers.’

  ‘In that case they must come here,’ Beatrice said. ‘You know we are mostly a hal
fway house these days. The majority of our children are passed on to Halfpenny House in Essex. The Board think the air is better there for them and I dare say they’re right – though we’ve had two or three run away from the home there. Some London kids just can’t settle anywhere else.’

  ‘I’m a Londoner myself,’ Sergeant Sallis said and nodded. ‘Right then, I’ll bring them round later. I thought I’d better ask first, because I know you don’t always have room these days. I hoped when they opened that new wing our worries were over, Sister.’

  ‘Yes, so did I, and for a while we managed well,’ Beatrice agreed with a wry smile. ‘However, the local authority needed somewhere to put their disturbed girls and they decided to take over that wing of St Saviour’s, leaving us to carry on here as best we can. I think they should have taken them elsewhere, but the Children’s Department have the power to do as they want these days.’

  ‘You don’t get any trouble from them, do you?’

  ‘From the girls you mean? They can be a bit cheeky, but we haven’t had any real upsets. I think they must be disciplined before they get here. I’m not happy about them being there, because I need the rooms for my orphans, but I was not given an option.’

  ‘I dare say they thought this side of the home was enough for you to manage …’

  ‘I may not be a young woman, Sergeant, but I’m not old,’ Beatrice fixed him with a hard stare. ‘I’ve hardly had a day’s illness for years …’ It wasn’t quite true, but she didn’t like it to be thought that she was too old to do her duty. She had no intention of being retired to the convent while she had breath in her body.

  ‘No, Sister, not at all,’ he said apologetically. ‘I don’t think it would be the same here without you …’

  ‘Well, I have things to do,’ Beatrice said. ‘Bring the children when you’re ready.’

  ‘Yes, I shall – and thank you for your help as always …’