‘But given the start you had in life, in a children’s home, that must have meant you had more than your fair share of battles to overcome in the early days.’
‘A few, but we were taught to regard them as challenges.’
‘Are you still in contact with anyone from those days?’
Venetia shook her head. ‘No.’
‘So no reunions?’
‘Goodness me no.’
‘Have you never wanted to arrange one?’
‘People change and some might not want to be reminded of those old days.’
‘You seem to look back on that time with fondness, it’s why you’re here, surely? Why shouldn’t they feel the same way?’
‘Because not everyone is the same.’
‘Did you have a best friend here, someone with whom you could confide and share all your secrets and do silly things together?’
Venetia smiled. ‘I did.’
‘What was her name?’
‘Actually, my best friend was a boy, and his name was Lucien.’
Chapter Sixteen
December 1957
Whenever a new girl or boy arrived at Hope Hall, Lady Constance would assign one of the older children to take them under their wing and show them the ropes. The child she selected for the task was always carefully chosen. It wasn’t just that Lady Constance hoped they would be a sympathetic match to the newcomer, but would also benefit from the process themselves by gaining a sense of responsibility and maturity. Sometimes it was a way to bring that child out of their shell and encourage them to be more sociable.
This was why, on a freezing cold afternoon in December with snow falling from a leaden sky, and while she was on duty in the library, Venetia, who had a reputation for being something of an introvert, was asked to report to Lady Constance’s study. There she found Lady Constance sitting in a wingback armchair by the fire with a dark-haired boy seated opposite her. Above the fireplace there was a framed embroidered sampler with the wordsHope Hall is a place of hope.Lady Constance had sewn it herself and the words summed up her philosophy at Hope Hall. The slogan appeared throughout the Hall whether it was painted in art classes, sewn in needlework classes, carved in woodwork classes, or engraved in metalwork classes.
‘Ah, there you are, Venetia. How are you today?’
‘I’m very well, thank you, Miss Constance,’ she replied politely.If there was one thing Lady Constance demanded of the children in her care, it was courtesy and respect, but what she didn’t want was a lot of bobbing, bowing, and tugging of forelocks, just because she had a fancy toff title. In spite of that, Venetia always thought of her as Lady Constance. She was a tall, statuesque woman with a regal way about her – that was breeding for you – and wore her pretty reddish-gold hair in a messy chignon with bobby pins poking out. Yet for all that regalness, she was often the first to offer comfort to a crying child, taking them to her ample bosom and soothing them until their tears had stopped. She had never had children herself, in fact she’d never been married, but she was such a kind, motherly sort.
‘I’d like to introduce you to Lucien Barnes,’ she said to Venetia. ‘He’s joining us here at Hope Hall and I thought the two of you would get on famously well together. You’re both twelve years old and from what Lucien tells me he’s a big reader just like you, so you’re kindred spirits. Perhaps you’d like to give Lucien a tour around the library and then take him for tea in the dining hall?’
Venetia nodded. ‘Yes, Miss Constance.’
Lady Constance turned to look at the boy sitting opposite her, who didn’t seem to have moved since Venetia had entered the room. ‘It’s sausages and mash today, followed by treacle pudding with custard and then later there’s hot chocolate before bedtime,’ she said. ‘How does that sound to you, Lucien?’
The boy seemed incapable of forcing a smile to his lips, never mind open his mouth to speak. His gaze didn’t seem to reach further than the end of his nose. His answer, such as it was, was a sullen shrug of his shoulders, which appeared to satisfy Lady Constance, but not Venetia.This boy was going to be hard work unless he sharpened up.
‘You’ll probably find it feels a bit overwhelming to begin with,’ Lady Constance explained to the boy, ‘but you’ll soon get the hang of the place. Especially with Venetia to help you. Theimportant thing to remember is simply to be yourself. Everyone is different and here at Hope Hall we strongly believe in fostering uniqueness.’ She abruptly clapped her hands together which was a signal that the meeting was over. ‘Now, off you go, you two, and have fun.’
Fun looked like the last thing Lucien Barnes was capable of as he stood up and left the room with Venetia. She led the way down the corridor towards the library, neither of them speaking. From the far-off kitchen, the engine room of the Hall as Lady Constance referred to it, came the smell of tea being cooked. They all joked that it didn’t matter what was served, there was always the smell of boiled cabbage. From the rec room she could hear a crescendo of shouting and a piano being played, and from somewhere else a door slammed hard. She noticed the boy beside her jumped at this last sudden noise.Better get used to that,she thought,noise is part of Hope Hall.
The only quiet place was the library, which was why she enjoyed spending so much time there. Some of the other children said she was stuck-up because she didn’t want to join in with their games that usually consisted of a lot of yelling and shrieking. Most of the time they knew to leave her alone, that if provoked she could more than fight her corner. But this boy didn’t look like he could defend himself; he looked like a gust of wind might carry him off.
He had a serious face with a pointy chin and large dark eyes with smudgy shadows beneath that made his pale skin look paler still. There seemed so little of him, as though he hadn’t eaten properly in a very long time. Maybe he hadn’t. Some children arrived here in a terrible state, thin as anything and in filthy threadbare rags. Venetia hated to see the little children arrive like that and she always counted herself lucky that she’d never experienced anything but the loving warmth of Hope Hall. Yes, she’d been an unwanted baby and abandoned on the doorstep,but she had no memory of it, so what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. In contrast, some of the children here had awful memories of their lives before, of terrifying neglect and abuse. Perhaps this boy did too. With that in mind, she made herself think kindlier towards him, to give him the benefit of the doubt.
‘Lady Constance was right when she told you it might feel a bit overwhelming here to begin with,’ she said, ‘most feel that way at the start. But everyone settles in eventually.’
There was no response from him, which annoyed her. Didn’t he realise she was trying to be nice to him? It made her not want to share the library with him, which she regarded as her very own special place. Why should she share it with this pathetic boy?
