to choke her. Nurses came running, but when they saw the child gathered into Jenny’s arms as far as the drip and the leg cage would allow, and saw that she too was sobbing, they withdrew.
‘About time,’ the matron said to the doctor, recognising the tears as a good sign. ‘I honestly thought that lass was heading for some sort of breakdown.’
The doctor nodded in agreement. ‘Perhaps now she’ll begin to make some improvement,’ he said.
‘We can only hope so,’ the matron said grimly.
As the taxi pulled up outside Pype Hayes Road, the neighbours ran forward to welcome Jenny home. Others stood in the doorways and waved and cheered and Jenny, though embarrassed, was touched by their concern. A man from the end ran up with a jar of honey. ‘From my own bees Jenny,’ he said. ‘Enjoy it.’
Mrs Patterson, their next door neighbour, had baked a cake and everyone said they were glad to see her back safe and sound. Jenny was touched to see that Geraldine and Jan and their children had come down to the house to see her, and had been absolutely staggered when her grandmother arrived at the hospital in a taxi to bring her home.
The table was laid as for a party, full of things not seen since pre-war days. There were plates of chicken and ham sandwiches and a dish of tomatoes that Jenny found were from Mr Patterson’s greenhouse. But the bowl of hard-boiled eggs astonished her: her mother said they were from a man who kept hens. The cold sausages were a present from the butcher. ‘Sit down and eat up now,’ she told her, ‘before it’s all spoiled.’
It was all wonderful, and Jenny was only sorry her appetite was not able to do it justice, especially the jelly and blancmange the children demanded she try, and the cake baked by their next-door neighbour, which Geraldine pressed on her. ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Being thin is one thing, but you’re just plain skinny, Jenny.’
‘You could do with more meat on your bones certainly,’ Jan, Seamus’s wife said. She herself was comfortably plump, and would have liked everyone else to be the same size, but she was a nice person and Jenny liked her. She wished Gran O’Leary had been invited because she could have done with her support that evening. She was going to make an announcement which she knew would spoil some of the joy of her home-coming for her family. But she knew she had to do it today: it had been growing in her ever since the previous day when Linda had cried in her arms.
Knowing it was best to get it over with, Jenny began as they sat drinking their second cup of tea. ‘I went to see Linda yesterday,’ she said.
‘Oh, how is she?’ Norah asked because it was the thing to say, but Jenny knew she hadn’t the slightest interest.
‘Very down,’ Jenny said. ‘She knows the full extent of the tragedy now.’
‘Has she any family to see to her?’ Jan asked.
Jenny shook her head, ‘No one.’
‘Ah, poor soul.’
Jenny blessed Jan for her sympathetic nature. ‘Yes it’s a shame isn’t it? She has got an aunt and an uncle, but he’s in Australia, and the aunt hasn’t got the room with a big family of her own.’
‘Be an orphanage for her then,’ Norah said.
‘Not necessarily,’ Jenny said. Everyone stopped and looked at her. Jenny paused for a moment or two, and then said, ‘She could come here.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
‘I’m not,’ Jenny protested. ‘She could sleep in my room in my bed; neither of us is very big.’
‘Jenny, my dear,’ Eileen said, in her most patronising voice. ‘It would not be at all suitable. We don’t know anything about the child’s background.’
‘Sod her background,’ Jenny said, so intensely angry she didn’t care what she said.
‘Jenny!’ the exclamation came simultaneously from Eileen and Norah.
‘Don’t “Jenny” me, and treat me like an idiot,’ she said, rage boiling inside her. ‘The child I spent hours with is virtually alone in the world. She has no one. They were wiped out in the raid that left you unscathed!’
‘I understand you are upset over the child and a little overwrought yourself perhaps,’ said Eileen. Jenny had the desire to swipe the smug expression off her face. ‘So, despite the way you’ve spoken to us, and the language used, we shall make allowances. You’ll find she’ll soon settle down, dear. The orphanages today are marvellous places, I believe.’
‘How d’you know? You’ve never been inside one.’
‘Jenny, don’t be so rude and argumentative,’ Norah said, siding as usual with Eileen. ‘Mother’s only expressing an opinion. Now, we have no objection to your being friends with the girl and visiting her if you feel you must, but that’s as far as it is to go.’
The only way she could maybe change their minds was to appeal to their puffed-up pride. They’d enjoyed having their pictures in the paper and their account of Jenny, who they described as a ‘wonderful daughter and granddaughter’, had raised their esteem within the neighbour-hood. So Jenny said, ‘If you were to agree to take Linda on, it would look good for you.’
‘How, pray, do you work that one out?’
‘Well think of the headlines,’ Jenny said. ‘Selfless widow offers home to orphan. The newspaper would be interested. In these days of bad war news, human interest stories are sought after.’
She saw the two women were thinking about what she said, and so she went on, ‘I don’t care how it’s done. You two can take all the credit, as long as Linda is allowed to come here to live.’ She paused and then went on, bravely determined. ‘But if you don’t agree to this, I will go to the papers myself and tell them Linda’s story. I will tell them I wanted to offer her a home here with me, but you would not hear of it.’
‘Don’t you dare threaten me, miss,’ Norah snapped.
‘I’m not threatening you Mother. I’m just telling you what I intend to do,’ Jenny said, marvelling at how calm she felt. She knew she’d won the fight; she saw it on their faces as they glanced at each other. But before they were able to make a reply, the sirens sent up their unearthly wail. The adults looked at each other almost in disbelief. ‘Oh God,’ Geraldine breathed. ‘Today of all days. Oh God!’
‘It may go over,’ Jenny said, seeing her sister’s terror mirrored in the faces of her children.
But it didn’t go over. It was far too dangerous for Jan to walk home, and Jenny insisted Jan and Geraldine and their children use the shelter, as she knew neither her mother nor grandmother would go into it. It would be cramped with them all inside, and probably damp and cold too, and she was glad she had taken the loan of Mr Patterson’s oil heater, even though it smelt to high heaven.
Seeing how frightened the children were of the planes droning over their head, and the crashes of explosions, and remembering what Linda had done to calm her brothers, Jenny began to sing every song she could think of, in an effort to still their panic.
Jan realized what she was doing immediately and began a rendering of the silly songs Eddie and Rosemarie would know from school. Geraldine didn’t join in, but she did stop shivering quite so much and the children grew enthusiastic, especially when none of the bombs fell terribly close.
Eventually, the heavy air and late hour got to Jamie and Declan and they were put down in the bunks to sleep. Even Rosemarie and Eddie were drowsy and lying back on their mothers’ knees, Eddie with his thumb in his mouth for comfort.
Too tired to sing any more, the women fell to talking in low voices so as not to disturb the children. At first they didn’t discuss the subject Jenny had broached at tea, but skated around it. Eventually, Jan said, ‘Were you serious about having that wee girl to live with you?’
‘Yes,’ Jenny said. ‘Never