War Orphans by Lizzie Lane Page A

herself back from romantic musings, Sally turned her attention to the mundane surroundings that she was so used to. The potatoes were boiling away on the stove, the steam rising in a thick fog to hang in cooled droplets on the ceiling. The fact that he’d done nothing to save them from being overcooked annoyed her, yet she didn’t have it in her heart to reprimand him. Her mind was preoccupied with the dark-eyed man she had only just met who had asked her out. She had so readily agreed. What was happening to her?
    Her father didn’t bother to look up and ask who it was at the door. Usually she accepted that this was the way he was and didn’t bother to tell him. On this occasion she couldn’t help herself. She had to share the experience with someone.
    ‘That was a Frenchman at the door. He’s the nephew of Lady Ambrose-DeVere. She’s opened her doors to unwanted animals. He’s asked me out to dinner and I’ve accepted.’ She glanced at the card he’d given her. He’d scribbled his name on the back. ‘His name’s Pierre.’
    Her father grunted his familiar response but didn’t look up. She knew from experience what he was plotting to do. Since the death of her mother, her father had shadowed her movements, petulant if she should dare leave the house on an evening. A night at the cinema, a dance or even an evening at a friend’s house, she could guarantee her father would be waiting outside for her. On some occasions he had insisted on escorting her there.
    ‘He has a car,’ she said boldly. ‘So there’s no need for you to chaperone me there and back.’
    She fancied the fingers holding the newspaper stiffened appreciably.
    Although he said nothing, she knew he was displeased. She also knew this behaviour had to end – whatever it took.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    School dinner consisted of slivers of gristly meat, potatoes and cabbage. Dessert was baked apple and custard.
    Joanna very carefully cut the beef into portions before sliding each piece under the table and into the handkerchief nestled in her lap. Once that was done, she bolted down the cabbage and potatoes, mashing it into the gravy.
    ‘I could do with seconds,’ she said to her friend Susan after hiding the handkerchief in her pocket.
    The two girls put up their hands when the teacher supervising the meal asked if anyone wanted seconds.
    ‘Only those with a clean plate,’ Miss Hadley stated, her keen eyes surveying the flock of upraised hands.
    Joanna’s plate was as clean as clean could be and Sally noticed her upright hand. ‘Only six at a time to come out for second helpings,’ she added nodding in Joanna’s direction.
    Joanna couldn’t believe her luck when she was one of the first to be picked. Once she had secured a second portion of meat, potatoes and cabbage, she hurried back to the dinner table she shared with fourteen other children. Just as before she cut the meat up into cubes and, after eating one or two herself, took the handkerchief from her pocket. After scraping off the gravy a few more portions of meat went into the handkerchief. After that she wolfed down the second helping of potatoes and cabbage.
    ‘I hope you’re going to have room for apple and custard after all that,’ said a voice.
    Joanna started. Miss Hadley was behind her looking very pleased indeed.
    ‘Yes, miss,’ murmured Joanna. The fact was that, having only eaten potatoes and cabbage, she had plenty of room. The meat was for the puppy. He hadn’t eaten since she found him and she was desperate to get to him.
    The afternoon lessons seemed to drag. Joanna glanced at the wall clock, willing its hands to move faster. The days were drawing in, October fast turning into November. There wouldn’t be much time to clean the shed today, but at least she could feed the little puppy. Hopefully he would find his way to the clay pot tray where she’d poured some water, but she couldn’t help wondering how he was. He hadn’t opened his eyes when she’d left him.