Tuppence To Spend (25 page)

‘Sammy!’ Ruth cried, dropping to her knees beside him and drawing him into her arms. She rocked to and fro, his head cradled against her breast. ‘Oh Sammy, Sammy, whatever is it? Whatever’s the matter?’

Lizzie stared in dismay. All she’d done was mention Christmas. Whatever could have happened to this little boy that the mention of Christmas, of all things, could upset him like this?

She felt suddenly ashamed of her own grumbles. This poor little fellow’s seen more of the war than I’ve got any idea about, she thought. He’s been through air raids and bombing, and God knows what, and now he’s out here without anyone he knows, and he just doesn’t know what to make of it all. And all I’ve got to worry about is myself. Even though my Alec’s at sea and could be in danger all the time, I’ll still never see what this little chap’s seen.

‘Come on, Sammy,’ she said, taking out her handkerchief and dropping to her knees beside Ruth. ‘Let’s wipe those eyes of your before you drown us all. And blow your nose – no, not on your sleeve, use this hanky. And then drink up this lovely cup of cocoa Auntie Ruth’s brought for you.
You’re frightening Silver, look. He’s all upset because you’re crying.’

Slowly, Sammy’s sobs eased and turned to sniffles. He blew his nose as directed and heaved a deep, shuddering sigh. He looked at Lizzie and then at Silver, preening himself unconcernedly on his stand.

‘He ain’t upset,’ he said in his hoarse voice. ‘He ain’t upset at all.’

Silver stopped preening and looked down at him. ‘Bleedin’ eagle,’ he said conversationally. ‘Bugger me, it’s a bleedin’
eagle
.’

‘Well, as you know, we share the school with the village children,’ the headmaster said to Ruth. ‘They have it in the mornings and we have it in the afternoons. It’s a squash even so, but he can come to school for the last week of term. It would help him to settle in after Christmas, and he’d have the fun of helping to decorate the school and coming to the Christmas party.’

‘Oh, that’s kind of you,’ Ruth exclaimed. ‘He only knows a few of the other children – apparently the family hadn’t lived in the area for long and before that he was ill. I gather he never actually came to your school.’

The headmaster frowned. He was uneasily aware that he ought to know more about Sammy Hodges, but with fifty or so children in each class, and all the upheaval of evacuation coming at the very beginning of the autumn term, he hadn’t even been aware of the child’s existence.

‘The family must have moved to Copnor some time during the summer,’ he said. ‘I understand there’s an older boy too, but he’d left school before they moved. I really don’t know any more than you do about them, Mrs Purslow. However, we know about Sammy now and he’ll be welcome to attend school with the others every afternoon. In fact, he
ought
to.’

It was hard to tell whether Sammy was pleased or not
when Ruth told him the news. He looked at her with his huge blue eyes, and she felt a rush of warmth and pity. I’d just like to scoop him up and put him in my pocket, she thought. Keep him safe. He’s been through too much already, poor little mite.

‘You’ll like being at school,’ she told him. ‘You’ll be able to play with the other children and make friends. You liked playing with the other children in Portsmouth, didn’t you?’

‘Some of them,’ he said. ‘Some of them picked on me.’

‘Well, if anyone picks on you here you’re to tell me,’ she said firmly. ‘And you’ll do lessons as well, of course. You’ll learn arithmetic and reading and writing, and – and all sorts of things. You’ll enjoy it.’

Sammy looked doubtful and went off to the village school next afternoon with an air of resignation. Ruth watched him go anxiously. I hope the others won’t pick on him, she thought. They’d better not, or they’ll have me to reckon with! But she knew that interference in the children’s lives didn’t really do any good. They were better left to work things out for themselves. Anyway, it was only a week until they broke up for the Christmas holidays and many of them were going home then. By the time school began again he’d have found his feet a bit more.

He came home for tea looking a little more confident, with Tim and Keith Budd on either side of him. Ruth went to the gate and thanked them for bringing him home.

‘’S all right,’ Tim said nonchalantly. ‘Sammy’s from our street. We used to play with him.’ He strolled off with his brother, whistling, and Sammy came indoors, pulled off his wellingtons and coat, and went straight to Silver’s cage.

‘Say you’re an eagle. Say you’re a bleedin’ eagle.’

‘I’m not sure I want him saying that too much,’ Ruth observed, pouring him a cup of warm milk. ‘Why don’t you teach him something new? Aren’t there any different rhymes you know?’

Sammy looked at her blankly. ‘I can’t think of any. He knows them all.’

What an admission, Ruth thought, that a parrot knows more rhymes than an eight-year-old boy. But she smiled at him and said, ‘Well, I expect Silver will think of something and then it might remind you. Here’s your milk. I’m going to have a cup of tea.’

‘Time for tea,’ Silver said at once. ‘Tea for two. I’m a little teapot, short and stout –’

‘There you are,’ Ruth said. ‘It only takes one word he recognises to start him off. Now look, I’ve been shopping. See what I’ve got.’ She picked up a paper bag that had been lying on the table and produced some coloured paper strips. ‘We’re going to make some paper chains. Have you ever had paper chains at Christmas?’

He nodded. So he’d had some sort of Christmas at home, she thought. ‘Mum used to get bits of paper like that. I put ’em all round the room. They looked pretty.’

‘Good. We’ll make this room look pretty too. I’ve made some flour and water paste to glue them together with. But don’t let Silver get his beak into that bowl, I don’t think the flour would be good for him.’

Sammy gazed at the bowl, then regarded her solemnly. ‘He likes flour. He likes
sun
flower.’

There was a moment’s silence. Ruth looked at him carefully, not quite sure if he knew what he had said. Then she smiled and laughed.

‘You clever boy! You’ve made a joke – a really good joke.’ She looked at him again and this time she saw a distinct gleam in his eye before he began to giggle. With a sudden rush of warmth and love she caught him against her. ‘Oh, Sammy, if you only knew how good it is to hear you laugh. If you only
knew
…’ She held him away and looked into the blue eyes. We’re getting somewhere, she thought with a surge of relief. We’re really, really getting somewhere.

They spent the evening making paper chains and as they worked she told him how Christmas had been before the war started.

‘We always went carol singing, with lanterns and candles. We’d go round all the cottages and the big houses, and some of them used to invite us in and give us mince pies and mulled ale. We collected money to give the old folk a party, or take things to them at home. And then we’d go out into the woods and dig up a Christmas tree and bring it home and decorate it. We’re going to do that again. Uncle George and Auntie Jane are going to have a big one, and Uncle George says if you want to go with them you can help get a little one for us.’

‘A tree just for us?’ he said, looking round the little room. ‘To have here?’

‘Yes,’ Ruth said, ‘and what’s more I’ve got some fairy lights to put on it! And with the paper chains you’ve made as well it’s all going to look really pretty.’

Sammy gazed at her and she feared for a moment that he was going to start crying again, as he had when Lizzie had talked about Christmas. But although his eyes were very bright, no tears fell. After a while he sighed and looked deep into the fire.

‘What are you thinking about, Sammy?’ she asked gently.

‘I just wish my mum could be here,’ he said, and there was a world of sadness and longing in his hoarse voice. ‘I wish my mum could be here and have Christmas too.’

The mystery of Sammy’s home and family troubled Ruth and a few days later, when the billeting officer returned to see how he had settled in, she asked what was known about them.

Mrs Tupper shook her head. ‘There’s no need for you to know about that. All you’re required to do is look after him.’

‘But how can I do that, if I don’t know what’s upsetting him?’ Ruth asked. ‘He looks so miserable and I know he cries at night.’

‘Most of them do. It’s only natural. They miss their families.’

Ruth pursed her lips. ‘It’s more than that with Sammy. He seems really upset about something – something to do with his mother. And you ought to have seen the state he was in when he first came here. Thin as a rake, covered in flea bites and looked as if he hadn’t been washed for weeks.’

Mrs Tupper gave a short laugh. ‘That’s nothing unusual, I’m afraid. He came from a rough area, you know. There are plenty like that, and worse.’

‘But he doesn’t come from a rough area,’ Ruth said. ‘There are other children in the village who come from the same part of Portsmouth. The two little Budd boys, they’re from the same street, and they’re not neglected. And he seems so upset about his mother. And there’s a brother somewhere—’

The billeting officer shook her head again. ‘I don’t know anything about a brother. And plenty of children his age are upset about leaving their mothers. It’s unfortunate, but it’s more important that they’re safe. The best thing to do is take no notice. They get over it.’ She looked at the sheaf of papers in her hand. ‘I’m sorry, I have to get on. I’ve got other children to see … So long as he has enough clothes for his needs, and you’ve got his ration book and identity card, there’s nothing more I need do here.’ She gave Ruth a sharp nod and bustled away along the lane.

Ruth looked after her. Enough clothes for his needs! she thought angrily. Ration book and identity card! A little boy taken away from his parents needs more than that. But if he did, it was clear that Mrs Tupper didn’t consider it a part of her job to attend to it.

Well, it might not be her job, Ruth thought, but I reckon it’s mine. It’s easy enough to look after a kiddy’s clothes
and make him a few meals, but that doesn’t mean to say he’s
happy
. And if you ask me, being happy’s every bit as important as being safe.

Once again, a good many of the evacuees were going home for Christmas. Tim and Keith Budd were to go, not knowing how much their mother had pleaded to have them back and how hard it had been to persuade their father. They looked forward to it, anxious to see their parents again and their baby sister Maureen. Tim was also secretly pleased at the thought of seeing Micky Baxter. He wasn’t really allowed to play with Micky, but the bad boy of April Grove had an aura of glamour he found hard to resist.

‘Most of them that are staying have got presents and cards from home,’ Ruth told Joyce Moore when she went round to collect Sammy after the school carol service. It was the last day of term and she’d hoped to go to the service in the little church, but she had been working afternoon shifts at the hospital, now that Sammy was at school. ‘But there’s nothing come for Sammy. Poor little mite. Doesn’t anyone back there love him?’

‘You still haven’t found out anything about his family, then?’

‘Well, no. It seems so queer. I asked that billeting woman, but all she would say was that he came from a rough area. But he doesn’t. He lives in April Grove, you know, same as where those Budd boys live, but even they don’t seem to know all that much about him.’

‘Tim told Edna Corner the family hadn’t been there long,’ Joyce said. ‘They came from Old Portsmouth. I got the impression that that’s a much poorer area than Copnor.’

‘Well, that could explain a bit, I suppose,’ Ruth agreed.
‘But it’s not just that. I’ve written to his mother and got no answer. I wondered if they might’ve gone away too, but surely they’d have let the billeting people know.’

‘Well, I don’t know, you hear some queer things … Someone told me about a little girl they’d heard of, she went to school one morning and when she got home that afternoon the family had moved! Without even
telling
her. The neighbours found her sitting on the steps crying her heart out. You can’t credit anyone doing that to their own kiddy, can you.’

‘Goodness, I hope Sammy’s family haven’t abandoned him like that,’ Ruth said, shocked. ‘Perhaps Tim Budd might have some news when they come back. Anyway, we’ll give the poor little chap a good time. Anything to bring a smile to his face!’

‘I’d have thought that parrot of yours would do that.’

‘Yes, he thinks the world of Silver, now he’s got used to him and stopped calling him a bl—an eagle. And Silver seems to have taken to him too. It makes me laugh, hearing them chuntering away together in the back room while I’m in the kitchen. They’re like two old men, thinking they’re having a proper conversation when really neither of them’s listening to a word the other one says.’

‘It does seem funny that he never talks about his mum or dad. Most little boys are so proud of their dads.’

‘I don’t think his dad’s much to be proud of,’ Ruth said grimly. ‘But I’d say he thought the world of his mum. I still haven’t got anything more out of him, you know. I wondered if he might have said anything to your boys.’

Joyce shook her head. ‘It’s only Davie he plays with all that much. John and Joe are older and Billy’s not much more than a baby. And whenever I’ve heard them talking, it’s only been about that blessed Meccano, or aeroplanes, or pretending to be soldiers. You know what boys are. If they were girls, now, they’d have each other’s life histories in the first five minutes.’

Ruth smiled. ‘Well, I suppose they’re like men, aren’t they?’ she said. ‘Can’t talk about anything but football. I’d better be getting on home, Joyce. Thanks for having him after school. It’s a big help.’

‘I’m surprised really they let you have a boy,’ Joyce remarked, following her to the door to pick up Sammy’s coat. ‘Seeing as you’re on your own and at work, I mean. Not that you don’t look after him a lot better than some people you hear about, but I wouldn’t want one of my boys to go off to someone who wasn’t going to be there all the time. No offence,’ she added hastily, ‘but these mothers, they don’t know what people are like, do they? They just don’t know where their kiddies are going to end up.’