‘All right, if you know best, miss, of course,’ said Mum. ‘Now stop that silly fuss and see what I’ve got you.’ She snapped open her handbag and brought out a little thin box, the sort you kept jewellery in. I stared at it through blurry eyes. I was still sobbing my heart out for Nan, but I couldn’t help wondering what it was. Could it possibly be a silver charm bracelet like Moira’s?
It wasn’t a charm bracelet. It wasn’t any kind of jewellery. It was a silver Perkins pen.
‘It’s our deluxe edition, the very best,’ said Mum. ‘See, I’ve even had your name engraved on the barrel. They’ve done it all fancy with flourishes, Elsie. Well, what do you say? Isn’t it lovely?’
‘Yes,’ I said, in a very small voice.
‘What was that?’ said Mum, cupping her ear.
‘Yes, thank you, Mum.’
‘That’s better. You’re a very lucky girl. Those pens aren’t made for children, you know. You’ve got a notebook, haven’t you? You can write down all your stories now. And write to me if you like, though I haven’t got an address sorted out just yet. We’ll stay in a hotel first, and then Perky will probably rent a place. Hey, come on now. Are you crying because I’m going away?’
I nodded.
‘Well, don’t worry, it’s not going to be permanent – just for a few months, till Perky gets the new business up and running.’
‘A few months?’ I said, suddenly frightened.
‘Yes, but there’s no need to fuss. You’re safely looked after here in hospital, aren’t you? It’s the ideal time for me to take this opportunity.’
‘But – but what will happen to me when I get better?’ I said.
‘I’ll be back by then,’ said Mum. ‘Oh, you’re in a right mood today. Cheer up! I thought you’d be happy for me. You mustn’t be selfish, Elsie.’
‘You will come back, won’t you, Mum?’ I said.
‘Of course I will. I promise.’ She said it looking straight into my eyes – but she’d broken heaps of promises before.
RITA STARTED TO get better next. She was surprisingly quick to be up and walking, and it wasn’t long before they told her she could leave the hospital. She looked so different in her going-home clothes. Her mum had bought her a new blue Vyella dress with smocking, a beige tweed coat and a beige velour hat to go with it. She even had new matching footwear: pale blue socks and big beige shoes like boats to keep her upright. I couldn’t help being glad that her beautiful outfit was a little spoiled by her orthopaedic shoes – and then I felt deeply ashamed because Rita clumped over to my bed in her new shoes and handed me a soft little parcel folded round and round like a Swiss roll.
‘It’s my cat pyjamas. I don’t want them any more,’ she said.
I gave her a hug and wished I’d been a better friend to her. I wondered if I should try to be a good friend to Moira, who was missing Rita terribly – but the moment little Michael went home she palled up with Maureen. I was relieved, because I didn’t really like Moira much. I was very happy to stay best friends with Angus.
He was a truly good friend, my third favourite person ever. Nan was still my number one, and Nurse Gabriel second. I loved Queenie too, very much indeed. Sometimes I rearranged Nurse Gabriel and Angus, and had Queenie second after Nan. Mum didn’t get a look in now.
I wasn’t prepared for Angus to get better. Somehow I’d assumed he’d have to stay immobile on his back even when they cut him out of his plaster cast. He’d always seemed so much worse than any of us. He had regular X-rays, and Sir David told him that the bones in his spine were starting to heal. He was allowed out of his plaster bed at long last, though he had a splint instead. Miss Westlake got to work on his legs, and he actually started to walk. He could only manage little jerky robot steps, inches at a time – but he was definitely mobile.
‘Well done, Angus! Hey, you’ll be running soon. Playing football. Doing your daft Scottish dancing. All sorts,’ I said, and I clapped him until he blushed scarlet.
‘Good girl, Elsie,’ Nurse Gabriel murmured on Sunday. ‘I know you must envy Angus terribly. You’ll really miss him when he goes home.’
‘I will,’ I said, my voice wobbly.
‘Still, never mind, dear. It’ll be your turn soon,’ said Nurse Gabriel. ‘I’ve had a look at your latest X-rays. That naughty old knee looks much healthier. Not too long now.’
This news set my stomach churning.
‘Cheer up, sweetheart! You’re doing really well. You’ll be home before Christmas, just as I promised,’ said Nurse Gabriel.
‘But maybe Mum won’t be back then,’ I whispered.
‘What’s that?’
‘She said not to tell,’ I said.
‘You can tell me,’ said Nurse Gabriel, taking hold of my hand.
‘Mum’s gone to Canada.’
‘What? Canada! Are you sure?’
‘It’s all hush-hush. You won’t tell anyone, will you, Nurse Gabriel?’
‘When’s your mum coming back from this holiday then, Elsie?’
‘It’s not a holiday, it’s work. I don’t know when she’ll be back. I don’t really mind – it’s Nan who always looks after me, but now Mum says Nan’s too poorly. Mum acts like Nan’s never going to get better.’
‘Don’t you worry about it, Elsie,’ said Nurse Gabriel, putting her arm round me. ‘I’m sure your mum will be back long before you’re ready to go home. But perhaps you should write to her, so she knows you’re making really good progress.’
‘I would write, but she’s never sent me her address,’ I said.
‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ said Nurse Gabriel. ‘Well, never mind. I’m sure she must have left a forwarding address with someone. Maybe she’s written to Sister Baker and told her. Don’t dwell on it, Elsie.’
She gave me a purple chocolate nut caramel from the sweet tin, my favourite, and when the bell went for the end of visiting hours, she scooped Queenie up and popped her onto my bed. ‘There – you give Queenie a little cuddle,’ she said.
I held Queenie close, burying my head in her soft white fur. ‘What am I going to do, Queenie?’ I whispered. ‘What if Mum never comes back? And what if Nan never gets better? Who will look after me?’
‘There there,’ Queenie purred. ‘You can look after yourself, Elsie. You can clean and do the washing and the shopping and cook cheesy beanos. You’ll manage just fine and dandy, dear.’
‘But they won’t let me,’ I said. ‘They don’t allow children to live by themselves.’
‘You can come and live with me!’ Angus hissed.
I hadn’t realized he’d been listening. I was so taken aback I couldn’t even reply.
‘It would be absolutely wizard. We could play together every day, and you could go to my school and we could sit next to each other in class. You could share my bedroom. I’ll ask Mum to get us bunk beds. You can even have the top one if you like.’
I swallowed hard. ‘Oh Angus, it would be smashing,’ I said. ‘But your mum and dad wouldn’t want me.’
‘Yes they would. They like you lots because I like you. And they’ve always wanted a little girl. I’ve just got two brothers, and I bet they’ve got a bit bored with boys. You wait, Elsie. I’ll ask next week, and they’ll say yes, and then when you get better you can stay with us until your mum comes back.’
‘I wish I could. I wish I could stay with you for ever,’ I said. ‘But they’ll say no. You wait and see.’
And of course they did say no, though they sounded upset, and they hated it when Angus pleaded.
‘No, son, it’s simply not possible. Now don’t take on so. Don’t be silly – of course we like Elsie, she’s a lovely wee girl, but she’s not our wee girl, don’t you see?’
I saw, but Angus wouldn’t. He kept on nagging, and ended up crying bitterly, which made his mother cry too.
‘Don’t, Angus. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine,’ I lied. ‘My mum will come back.’
But she didn’t.
‘You’re absolutely certain
she didn’t tell you where she was going?’ said Nurse Gabriel on Sunday. ‘She didn’t say which part of Canada? Was it Toronto perhaps? Or Vancouver?’
‘She didn’t say either of those places. She was just going with her boss, Mr Perkins, of Perkins Pens.’ I showed her my silver limited edition. Then I lowered my voice. ‘He’s got a wife but I think he’s also Mum’s boyfriend now.’
‘Oh goodness.’ Nurse Gabriel tucked her hair behind her ears, looking very embarrassed.
‘It’s OK. My mum has had lots of boyfriends,’ I said, to show her that I was used to this situation, but that only seemed to make her more flustered.
‘Oh Elsie,’ she said, squeezing my hand. ‘Well, perhaps in a few weeks, if your mum’s still abroad, we’ll have to contact her via her work.’
‘She’ll be really cross with me then. She said I wasn’t to tell anyone,’ I said.
‘But she’ll be delighted that you’ve made such good progress. She’ll come rushing home and she’ll be thrilled to see you and . . .and . . .’
I waited for Nurse Gabriel to say we’d live happily ever after, but she didn’t go quite that far.
She kept it up for a while. Angus went home, and I missed him so badly I wouldn’t eat properly and didn’t want to talk to anyone. I would only whisper to Queenie, stroking her for hours.
‘Come on, Elsie! Buck up, dear. No more silly moping,’ the nurses said.
They were another new set now – Nurse Appleton and Nurse Finchley during the day, and Nurse Moore and Nurse Mitchell at night. I decided I didn’t like any of them. I only liked Nurse Gabriel – and I didn’t always like her when she went on about Mum because it just made me worry more. She tried hard to talk about other things when she visited. She brought me little presents – Girl comics, and School Friend and Girls’ Crystal too, and two pink butterfly hair slides, and a little felt mouse in a red spotted dress, with a tiny red ribbon on the end of her cord tail. I read my comics from cover to cover, and kept my hair out of my eyes with my new slides, and hid my little mouse under my pillow whenever Queenie was around.
It was very kind of Nurse Gabriel to make such a fuss of me. I started to dare hope that if she really, really liked me, maybe she might want me to be her little girl, and then I could go and live with her when I was better.
‘I know you live in the nurses’ hostel, Nurse Gabriel, but wouldn’t you sooner have a home of your own? Couldn’t you rent a flat – just a little one? And then I could maybe keep it tidy for you. I could come and stay sometimes. Well, if you really liked, I could live with you. I wouldn’t even need my own bed. I could curl up on the sofa, and then I’d make you a cup of tea when you came back tired from doing all your nursing.’
‘Oh Elsie,’ Nurse Gabriel said softly.
‘I can cook too. I can make all sorts of things. Have you ever had cheesy beanos?’
‘Elsie, sweetheart, I can’t afford a little flat. It’s against the rules for nurses to live out anyway. And even if I did, I couldn’t take you in, much as I’d like to.’
‘Don’t you like me enough?’ I said.
‘Of course I do! But I couldn’t possibly look after you. You know what a nurse’s life is like. I’m either on duty or sleeping. If you were my little girl, I’d want to stay at home and play with you and teach you things and read to you. I know you’re very grown up in lots of ways, but you’re still only a little girl. You need someone to look after you.’
‘But if Mum doesn’t come back and Nan’s too sick in the sanatorium, then I haven’t got anyone,’ I said.
Nurse Gabriel put her arms round me and gave me a cuddle, but I was too miserable to enjoy it.
Two weeks later Sister Baker came bustling purposefully along the ward when we were all watching children’s television, our beds lined up together.
‘I’d like a little word, Elsie,’ she said.
I felt my stomach lurch as she took hold of my bed and wheeled me away, right up to the other end of the ward.
‘Oh, I was watching Whirligig!’ I said.
I didn’t really care about the television programme. I just desperately wanted to avoid talking to Sister Baker.
‘I think we need a little private chinwag,’ she said.
I wondered if I was going to be sick.
‘I haven’t done anything wrong. I haven’t told stories or been naughty to the nurses,’ I said.
‘Mmm,’ said Sister Baker. ‘I’ll take that statement with a big pinch of salt. But I’m not here to tell you off, Elsie. I just need to get a few facts straight. You’re doing surprisingly well medically. The knee seems to be healing nicely. You’re a shining little advert for our nursing care.’
I bared my teeth at her in a false grin.
‘It’s early days yet, but we need to start setting up provision for your home care. Now, I believe Mummy hasn’t been to see you recently.’ She checked a folder. ‘Mmm, not for many weeks. And you think she’s now in Canada?’
I nodded.
‘With a Mr Perkins?’
Oh dear, Nurse Gabriel had filled her in on all the details.
‘Yes, Mr Perkins of Perkins Pens,’ I whispered.
‘Well, not any more. I’ve had the secretary try to make contact, but apparently Mr Perkins has sold his company. Presumably he’s starting up a new business in Canada – with your mother.’
‘Oh,’ I said. There didn’t seem anything else I could say.
‘A children’s officer has also been to 3a Franklin Lane, Elsie – the address your mother gave us. That is the right address, isn’t it, dear?’
‘Yes, it’s where I live with Nan,’ I said.
Sister Baker hesitated, and then actually took hold of my hand. ‘The flat has now been rented out to someone else.’
I stared at her. ‘Nan’s flat?’
‘It was in your mother’s name, but now she’s stopped paying the rent.’
‘But – but where will Nan live when she gets better?’ I asked.
Sister Baker looked grim.
I burst into tears. ‘She will get better, I know she will! Don’t you dare tell me my nan’s too poorly.’ And then the worst thought of all wouldn’t stop ringing in my head like an alarm clock. ‘She isn’t dead! I won’t believe she’s dead. She can’t possibly be dead. She’s my nan.’
‘Now, now, Elsie, try not to work yourself up into such a state. It’s not good for you. I truly don’t know whether your nanny has passed away or not. We will find out. But don’t you have some other relation – an aunty or an uncle, perhaps?’
I’d had many uncles, but not the sort Sister Baker meant.
‘There’s no one else, just Nan and me,’ I said.
‘Well, you mustn’t get upset about it, dear. I dare say your mummy will come back quite soon – and if she doesn’t . . .’
‘I’m not going to a children’s home,’ I said flatly.
She looked surprised. ‘Well, yes, a children’s home is certainly one option, but you mustn’t look so worried. It’s a lovely happy place with lots of other girls and boys to play with.’
‘No it’s not! It’s horrid. I was there when I was little and I absolutely hated it and I’m not ever going back, so you can put that in your pipe and smoke it, Sister Baker!’
Sister Baker let go of my hand abruptly. She shook her head. ‘What am I going to do with you, Elsie Kettle?’ she said.
She whisked me back to the ward and I lay there, crying, while the others watched the end of Whirligig.
‘Are you crying because Sister Baker told you off, Elsie?’ asked Moira.
‘No, I told her off,’ I said.
‘She’s crying because her mum’s done a runner and she’ll have to go to an orphanage when she gets better,’ said Gillian.
‘I’m not an orphan. I’ve still got a mum – and I’ve got my nan too,’ I said.
Queenie jumped up on my bed to remind me that she was part of my family too.
‘Don’t take on so, dearie,’ she purred.
She gently butted me with her soft head until I stroked her, and then she wriggled happily, stretching herself out beside me. I felt for the hairbrush on my locker and started brushing Queenie from head to tail. This was strictly forbidden, but Queenie and I didn’t care.
‘Oh, that’s heavenly, Elsie,’ she purred. ‘More! Please more! Oh, divine!’
I brushed her until she was the softest, sleekest, silkiest cat in the world, as light as thistledown. I climbed on her back and we ran away to Happy-Ever-After Land. There was dear Nan welcoming us home. We all curled up in bed together, Nan and Queenie and me.
‘There now, this is home!’ Queenie purred.
‘Yes, it’s home, and I’m here, and I’m going to look after you for ever,’ said Nan.
I started crying again because I was so happy. Then someone started stroking my shoulder and whispering in my ear.
‘Wake up, Elsie!’
I opened my eyes, and there was Nurse Gabriel. It wasn’t night-time – it was supper time.
‘I don’t want to wake up,’ I mumbled, and I tried to slide back under the covers where Nan was still waiting for me.
‘Elsie, I need to talk to you now,’ said Nurse Gabriel. ‘I’ve been to see your nan!’
‘She’s in Happy-Ever-After Land in my dream,’ I said.
‘Come on, Elsie, listen. This isn’t a story. I’ve really been to see your nan.’
‘But she isn’t allowed any visitors.’
‘I know, but I’m a nurse, remember. I went in my uniform and I explained your situation to the Matron there, so she let me into the ward.’
‘And Nan was really there? You saw her? She’s not dead?’
‘No, she’s not dead. She has been very ill. I think at one time the staff expected her to die. She’d given up herself. She told me that straight. She felt so badly because she thought she’d given you TB too.’
‘But I told her it wasn’t her fault! I wrote her a letter!’
‘I know you did, darling, but she never got it.’
‘But I gave it to Mum. She promised she’d post it!’
‘Well, I’m sure she did, and the letter must just have got lost. But never mind that first letter, Elsie. She got your second letter, the one about the Queen, and she was so happy for you and yet so worried too, wondering how you were getting along. She hasn’t seen your mother for a long while. She started to worry who would look after you when you got better. So she knew it had to be her. She said she lay there, day after day, talking to you inside her head, telling you not to worry.’