The Little Runaways. Cathy Sharp

her expression blank, she poured two glasses of lemon barley and took one to Terry and then one to Nancy, standing them by the sides of the beds.

      ‘I’m sorry, miss.’ Nancy spoke in hushed tones, glancing anxiously at the nurse and Mark, who were talking and looking at her brother. ‘I know you meant it kindly, but it upset him. He didn’t mean to do it, but when he gets upset he sometimes does silly things.’

      ‘It is all right, Nancy,’ Angela managed, though she was upset. ‘It was only an old thing. I just thought he might like it.’

      ‘He will like it after I’ve mended it,’ Nancy said. ‘If I could have some sewing stuff – I’ve always looked after him, sewing buttons on and things …’

      Angela saw the frightened look in the girl’s eyes and reached down to touch her hand sympathetically. ‘Is that what you would like – some sewing things? I have some spare bits and bobs you could have if you like, and I could get you some material to make yourself a pretty dress you can wear for best.’

      ‘Sister Beatrice came earlier and told us I should join the others for meals and other things. I’ve been given two skirts and two blouses; they’re nice, better than my own clothes. She says I ought to go to school next week – but Terry isn’t well yet, miss. I can’t leave him or he’ll start screaming and breaking things; it was after she said that we should soon have to move to the dormitories that he did that …’ Nancy’s eyes flicked to the mutilated teddy bear. ‘Terry cried after he did it, miss. He wants me to mend it.’

      Angela looked at Terry, but his eyes were flashing and it wasn’t remorse that she saw there. She looked back at his sister reassuringly. ‘All right, Nancy. I’ll fetch the sewing things in my lunch hour and bring them for you.’ It was very unusual for the brother and sister still to be in the isolation ward almost two weeks after they were admitted; but because Terry still woke screaming sometimes, Sister Beatrice had thought it might be for the best until they could decide what to do with them, otherwise they might wake the other children in the dorms. ‘Why don’t you sit over there by the window and look at the garden as you work? It would be better than being in bed when you don’t have to be.’

      ‘I pretended to have a headache so Sister wouldn’t make me get up and leave him …’ Nancy shut up abruptly as Mark approached them, looking thoughtful.

      ‘Hello,’ he said, bending down to pick up the mutilated bear. ‘What happened to this?’

      ‘We had a fight over it,’ Nancy lied. ‘I’m going to mend it.’

      ‘Well, poor teddy,’ Mark said, and put the bear down on a chair. ‘You seem well recovered, Nancy. Sister says you can get up but don’t want to – would you tell me why, please?’

      ‘I can’t leave Terry. He’s frightened on his own and he’ll start screaming.’

      ‘Yes, I thought that might be it,’ Mark said. ‘Well, I’ll have a word with Sister Beatrice for you and see if we can sort something out.’ He looked at Nancy a moment longer and then turned to Angela. ‘If you’re going to your office, I’ll walk with you.’

      ‘I wanted to talk to you,’ Angela said hesitantly. She glanced towards Staff Nurse Carole at that moment and was surprised to see the annoyed expression on the attractive girl’s face. Her pale blue eyes glinted with ice, and Angela received the distinct impression that the girl had taken a dislike to her, though she had no idea why.

      She nodded her head at Carole and walked to the door. Mark opened it and held it for her, closing it quietly behind them.

      ‘That was your bear, wasn’t it?’ he asked. ‘I’ve seen it before – when we brought some of your stuff to London just before Christmas?’

      ‘Yes, it was mine; fancy you remembering. I think it was getting very fragile, but Terry lost his in the fire.’

      ‘So you gave it to him and he destroyed it.’ Mark frowned. ‘It was a shame after you’d had it all those years.’

      ‘It didn’t matter. I expect he is just upset. It may have reminded him of things he doesn’t want to remember.’

      ‘Very shrewd,’ Mark agreed. ‘Yes, Terry is extremely disturbed and at the moment refusing to accept what has happened. He doesn’t want to remember anything. I’m not sure why – though of course the fire was terrible and they’ve lost their parents, but …’ He shook his head. ‘It’s all rather troubling. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be burdening you with my musings, Angela. It’s just that I wondered about the bear.’

      ‘I’m not upset, Mark. Perhaps he did it to see what I would do. Sort of testing me, so I thought it best not to mention it to him. Nancy apologised.’

      ‘Yes, well, I shall have to see how things go,’ Mark said, and then smiled at her. ‘You wanted to talk to me?’

      ‘Yes. Actually, it’s about Nancy.’ Angela hesitated, she felt a sudden urge to make things right between them and it seemed silly to be avoiding him. Her father was right: Mark always did things for the best of reasons, even if she didn’t like the outcome. ‘Perhaps not now, Mark … I wondered if you would like to come to the apartment for a drink one evening? Not this evening because I’m going out with Sally to the pictures – but perhaps tomorrow, before you go down to the country?’

      ‘I can’t manage it this weekend unfortunately,’ he said. ‘Friday next week would be perfect. I was going to ask you for dinner one day soon but I never seem to have time these days.’

      ‘Yes, lovely. We’ll talk about it on Friday week – about eight?’

      ‘Just right,’ he said as they arrived at her office. ‘Well, I need to speak to Sister Beatrice about those two. Do you think you could find them a small room to themselves somewhere? Have a think about it and tell Sister if you can work out where we could put them together.’

      ‘Yes, all right, I will,’ Angela said. ‘I’ll look forward to Friday then …’

      She went into the office and closed the door. It was only as she sat down at the desk that she recalled the way Carole looked at her.

       NINE

      Carole glared as the door closed behind Angela and Mark Adderbury. She’d been getting on so well with the psychiatrist until Angela Morton turned up, breezing in on a cloud of fresh perfume – very expensive by the smell of it, her dress simple but well-cut and elegant, her shoes low-heeled patent leather. She looked confident and sure of herself – and of Mark Adderbury, smiling up at him in that guileless way of hers: the supercilious cat! Carole had decided she didn’t like the other woman, because she was too damned sure of herself and always looked as if she’d stepped out of a glossy magazine.

      Carole felt a frump in her regulation uniform. Mark had been on the point of asking her to dinner, she was sure of it, before Angela Morton wafted in. Then there were all the questions concerning those two peculiar children. Neither of them was truly ill in Carole’s opinion. Nancy was putting on her headaches to get her own way, and the boy was just sullen. What they both needed was a good shake. Sister should put her foot down and make them separate into their various dorms. If she were in charge she wouldn’t take any nonsense.

      Oh, well, it wasn’t part of her job to decide what happened to the children at St Saviour’s. All she was employed to do was to look after the sick ones.

      Carole popped next door to the sick ward. Her patients were being served hot drinks by Jean Painter.

      ‘I’ve got some girls with sore throats to visit, Jean,’ she said to the young carer. ‘You can stay until I get back, can’t you? I don’t like to leave my patients alone – and the boy next door may start screaming. If he does just leave him to his sister. She can cope.’

      ‘Oh – if you’re sure,’ Jean said, and looked a bit nervous. ‘I haven’t