Page 11 of The Stolen Child

Sally’s eyes widened. She couldn’t call her that. ‘I can’t do that. I have a mummy at my home.’

Housemother laughed out loud as if she’d told the funniest joke. ‘If you are at Sunshine House, you don’t have a mother any more. Come on, let’s be having you. I dread to think what’s lurking in your long hair.’ Her hand grasped Sally’s arm, bony fingers pinching her skin, making her grimace.

Housemother half dragged Sally back upstairs into a bathroom where a claw-footed bath was filled with water.

‘Take those clothes off and get in,’ Housemother said.

‘My mother gave me a bath this morning,’ Sally protested.

Housemother threw her eyes upwards and began peeling Sally’s clothes off. She picked Sally up and threw her into the bath. Then she began ladling water from a plastic bowl over her head. Housemother washed her hair with a foul-smelling disinfectant shampoo, pulling her hair this way and that as she searched for nits. She seemed almost disappointed to find Sally’s hair didn’t have any. After her bath, Housemother scrubbed her dry with a threadbare towel that scratched her skin. Then she dressed Sally in the same uniform Elsie wore. As hot tears trailed Sally’s face, Housemother cut her long blonde hair into a short bob. Her mummy would be so cross.

‘That’s better,’ Housemother declared once she’d finished. ‘Dinner is at five o’clock sharp. You are excused from chores this afternoon as it’s your first day. Off you go.’

Sally walked into the dark hallway and looked up and down, trying to figure out what to do next. She couldn’t face the other girls; she wanted her mummy. But she wouldn’t be coming to rescue her – not today, at least. Sally returned to the dorm and climbed onto her bed, slipping under the scratchy blanket and sheet. Curling herself into a ball, she sobbed into the pillow.

Sally felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Elsie standing by her bed. Elsie climbed in beside Sally and pulled her into her arms.

‘Shush there, treacle. It’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of you. I promise.’

But this kindness only made Sally’s sobs grow.

‘When I was sad, my mum used to sing to me. And then I’d feel better. Would you like me to sing to you?’ Elsie asked.

Sally nodded mutely in between her sobs.

Elsie began to sing the prettiest song Sally had ever heard about sunshine making you happy when skies were grey. And with Elsie’s arms wrapped round her, Sally stopped crying and fell into a fitful sleep.

BEFORE

November 1970

Sally

Sunshine House Orphanage, Hammersmith, London

Elsie placed a finger on her lips, indicating to Sally that she should remain quiet. Moving towards them across the wooden floor, heavy footsteps echoed around the damp, dark hallway. They were hiding behind a large armoire that stood under the oak staircase. Sally held her breath as Elsie reached over to clasp her hand in her own. It felt clammy to touch, and Sally cursed herself for letting the time get away from her. They knew that either Sister Jones or Housemother always did their rounds at eleven o’clock.

Sally’s heart raced so fast inside her chest that it felt like a wild animal trying to break free. She could still hear the clip-clop of feet approaching. It was Housemother, she decided. She recognised the heavy footfall of her steel-tip brogue boots. Sally’s mind raced with anticipation and dread. Would Housemother look under the stairs or go straight to the dormitory? She heard the footsteps pause and saw the flash of a lantern moving up and down the hallway.

She and Elsie had got into countless scrapes together over the past seven years, and this year alone they had been caned half a dozen times by Housemother. The memory of the last punishment still stung on the back of her legs, a constant reminder of the risks they took.

Elsie looked stricken, but Sally scowled back at her, unwilling to let her off the hook. Her face was ashen, but her lips were pink and bruised from all the kissing with her boyfriend. Elsie now had curves that rivalled Marilyn Monroe, and she loved the attention this got her, whereas Sally still looked young for her twelve years, and was invisible to boys, but that was okay. She was in no rush.

Sally saw Housemother’s sensible black boots move to the first step of the staircase. And she knew that they were done for.

Then Sister Jones’s voice called out from the staff den. ‘Are you playing this round of sevens or not? I’m dealing the cards now.’ The nun moved into the hallway, joining Housemother on the stairs, looking in their direction and spotting the girls hiding. She shook her head, her forehead creased in a frown.

Mercifully, Sister Jones called out to the Housemother, ‘There’s not a sound coming from any of the dorms. They must all be out like a light. Come on back to the cards.’ Then she led Housemother back towards the staff den.

Only when they heard the door close, did Sally and Elsie exhale.

‘I thought we were goners . . .’ Elsie whispered, her blue eyes still wide with fright.

Sally faced the girl who had become her surrogate older sister in everything but blood. She knew she had only herself to blame, agreeing to go along with Elsie’s latest escapade. After years of moments like these, Sally should know better. But the problem was that Sally could never say no to Elsie. Because life was always more exciting with Elsie around.

‘Good old Sister Jones. “I’m dealing the cards now!”’ Elsie said, mimicking the nun’s Scottish accent perfectly.

Tomorrow Sally would find Sister Jones and thank her for saving them. Over the years, for every dark moment in the orphanage, Sister Jones had found a way to counteract it with an act of kindness. Along with Elsie, the nun had become like family to Sally.