LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter Six

      ‘The children will be going home soon,’ Meg said, as she glanced up at the kitchen clock.

      ‘May I ask you something?’ Lana said.

      ‘Of course, lass. It won’t be the first question you’ll want answering.’ Meg sat on a seat opposite. She gave Lana an encouraging smile.

      ‘I was wondering about the older child in Miss Booth’s class,’ Lana said. ‘I noticed her when I came for the interview. She was sitting away from the other children. Mr Shepherd said she needed help.’

      She waited tentatively for Meg to answer.

      ‘That’s Priscilla, poor love,’ Meg said, crossing herself. ‘One minute she was a happy girl with two loving parents, and next breath her mother and father were walking back from the cinema in the blackout and a car with no headlights, of course, ploughed into them. They were killed outright.’

      ‘Oh, how dreadful. Poor Priscilla. Where was she when it happened?’

      ‘The children were rehearsing a play at her school,’ Meg said. ‘Priscilla was in it. Leading light, I believe. Her dad was going to fetch her after the rehearsal. He never turned up, so she refuses to think they died. They were both mangled, apparently …’ Meg drew in a shaky breath. ‘There’s never been a proper service. It’s all so sad.’

      Lana shuddered. ‘How long ago was it?’

      ‘Must be two or three months. She’s now living at Bingham Hall – the orphanage. From what I hear, she’s most unhappy. But then who wouldn’t be, becoming an orphan overnight? But you mustn’t use that word to her or she goes barmy. I feel so sorry for her.’ Meg gathered the dirty cups and plates. ‘The trouble is, the shock seems to have affected her brain. She’s a bright child, really.’ Meg took the dishes to the sink. She turned round to Lana and wiped her hands on her apron. ‘The police had to break the news to her about her parents but she doesn’t believe them. She thinks if she is very, very good they’ll be restored to her.’

      ‘Oh, what a heart-breaking story,’ Lana said, tears springing to her eyes as she pictured the child trying to take in such terrible news from strangers.

      ‘It was a shame Mr Benton hadn’t joined up before it happened,’ Meg went on. ‘He was a strict headmaster and was not the best person to help Priscilla in those first dreadful weeks. She needed love and kindness and understanding – which is where you’ll be able to help, I’m sure.’

      There was simply no possibility for Lana to tell this nice cook that nothing was definite. Not after seeing the despair on Priscilla’s face and Meg telling her the child’s background.

      ‘Changing the subject, what did you think of the cottage?’ Meg asked.

      ‘A mess,’ Lana answered without hesitation. ‘And that’s being kind.’

      Meg chuckled. ‘Yes, Janice is not the most house-proud woman.’

      ‘It was so bad I almost decided there and then I couldn’t stay,’ Lana said, smiling. ‘But I’m looking for a challenge, so I might reconsider.’

      ‘Now you’re talking,’ Meg said, putting the shepherd’s pie into a basket. She set it on the table in front of Lana. ‘Well, this evening will give you the chance to get to know Janice. Her bark’s often worse than her bite.’

      Lana walked back to the cottage, keeping the basket steady, all the time thinking about Priscilla and Janice. She realised she hadn’t thought about her own anger over Dickie’s death all afternoon. Maybe this was just what she needed. To stop thinking about herself and be aware that other people were going through misery of their own. And poor Priscilla was still only a child – so much for a young girl to bear. Was it meant to be that Lana had come to the school to help her?

      She didn’t believe in fate so that was nonsense. And anyway, she had to face Janice first of all. She’d soon know if Janice was going to thaw out or not if she didn’t respond positively to Meg’s delicious-smelling pie.

      Feeling a little silly, Lana knocked on the door, then tried the handle. It swung open. She could hear scuffling in the kitchen.

      ‘It’s me,’ she called, but there was no response. A smell of cabbage wafted through. She gave a wry smile and went into the kitchen. Janice had set the table for supper.

      ‘Oh, you’re back,’ Janice said, glancing up, then lifting the lid of a saucepan. ‘Just dump the dish on the table. I’ve made some cabbage to go with it,’ she added unnecessarily.

      ‘I’m hungry just smelling everything.’ Lana set the dish on a tablemat. ‘I meant to bring a sandwich for the train but forgot, and breakfast seems a long time ago – apart from Meg’s toasted bun, that is.’ She smiled but there was no response from Janice who was frowning as she tried a shred of cabbage.

      ‘I think it’s done,’ she said, turning off the gas, ‘so we may as well eat early.’

      Janice was very quiet during the meal, not inviting conversation. Lana could hear herself swallow. It unnerved her. How on earth could she even contemplate sharing a cottage with such a woman? And yet … Meg had said she didn’t used to be so morose. Something must have happened, but how could she broach any kind of personal question when she’d only just arrived at the school? Well, there was one question she could ask.

      ‘Janice, will you tell me the truth?’

      Janice looked up, her eyes wide. ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Are you all right about sharing the cottage with me?’

      ‘Not

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