Christmas for the Halfpenny Orphans. Cathy Sharp

and shook her head. ‘He thinks about eleven, but he isn’t sure about the younger one.’

      ‘Ah, well, I’m sure we can fit them in somewhere in the new wing. We have so much more room now that we’re able to move in there.’

      ‘Yes, thank goodness. Mark Adderbury telephoned me earlier. He suggested we have a small party here for the staff to celebrate the opening of the new wing. He thinks it would be a good idea to ask the Bishop to open it for us. Naturally, I agreed, though I do not particularly see the need myself …’ She waved her hand in dismissal. ‘But if the Board think we should …’

      Angela noticed the faint sigh. Sister Beatrice was looking pale and tired. A few months previously she had been attacked by an unfortunate and disturbed boy named Terry and though it didn’t seem possible that she would still be affected by a minor injury, it was clear she was no longer the forthright and energetic Sister Beatrice of old.

      ‘Is anything the matter, Sister? Are you quite well?’

      ‘Why do you ask? I’m perfectly all right. What nonsense.’ Sister Beatrice walked off; evidently annoyed that Angela should express concern. She prided herself that she was never ill and routinely shrugged off colds that would send lesser mortals to their beds. Angela shook her head and made her way to the kitchens.

      The cook, Muriel, was complaining to Nan, who was trying to placate her but without much success. ‘How I’m supposed to manage with that wretched girl late again I don’t know,’ Muriel said. ‘She was away two days last week – and she knows there’s a mountain of work to do today if I’m to bake as well as make jam from those lovely plums and apples we’ve been given. I can make a pudding with some of them, but most of the plums are too ripe for eating.’

      ‘I expect that’s why they gave us such a lot,’ Nan said.

      The comment made Angela smile. As head carer, Nan had no idea how much badgering went on behind the scenes to keep St Saviour’s kitchens supplied. Angela thought the stallholders at Spitalfields’ wholesale fruit market must be sick of the sight of her, but she’d asked them not to throw their surplus out if it was still useable.

      ‘It might be too ripe for you to sell on, Bert,’ she’d told her favourite wholesaler the previous morning. ‘But we can always use it for jams and puddings.’

      ‘Anythin’ for you, me darlin’,’ Bert had said, making her an extravagant bow and kissing her hand. He was in his sixties if he was a day, but handsome, with strong grey hair and harsh features that belied his soft heart. ‘I’ll scrounge some boxes of fruit for your orphans, love, don’t you worry.’

      In the months since she’d come to the East End of London as the Administrator for St Saviour’s, she’d learned to love the warm-hearted men who worked the fruit and vegetable wholesale market. They’d made several generous donations of fruit and vegetables, and she wasn’t going to allow their generosity to go to waste, despite a girl being late for work.

      ‘I’m sure Nancy will give you a hand with the fruit, Muriel, and you know how the children love your jam.’ Angela smiled at her. ‘I’ll have a word with Kelly when she comes in, if you like – perhaps I can find out why she is late so often.’

      ‘We’re so short-handed these days. I really miss that Alice Cobb; she was always ready to help out in an emergency,’ Muriel sighed as she chopped and peeled.

      ‘Alice stayed on as long as she could after she married that nice young soldier, but she’s a mother now and it’s too soon for her to come back to work,’ Angela reminded her.

      ‘She had her baby in June, and a lovely little thing she is too. Alice has been talking about coming in for a few hours when she’s ready.’ Nan saw Alice often, now that she’d taken the girl under her wing, and kept them up to date with her news.

      ‘If you need any help with washing up, I could give you a hand,’ Angela offered. ‘And I’ll take the trays up to the nurses if you like.’

      ‘Nurse Wendy usually comes down for hers at about ten …’ Muriel glanced at the clock. ‘I’ve got the washing up from breakfast, and then I’ll need a hand if I’m going to get my baking done and that wretched jam – so if you could possibly ask Nancy to come down, please, Angela.’

      ‘I’ll give you a hand with the washing up,’ Nan said. ‘I’ve got linen to change today, but Jean will manage without me for a while. I shall miss Sally though.’

      ‘Yes, we’ll all miss her, but you have Tilly Tegg to take her place, and she seems very willing,’ Angela said. ‘Yes, you do need to get your preserves done, Muriel; it will soon be time to think about Christmas again …’

      ‘Don’t talk about that yet,’ Muriel begged. ‘I’ll soon have to start thinking about making cakes and puddings for Christmas. Thank goodness we’ve got some dried fruit on the shelves this year. Three years ago I had to make them with carrots and prunes to bulk the mixture out and they didn’t taste the same.’

      ‘Well it’s still only September,’ Angela said. ‘So there’s time yet. I’ll make a tray of tea and take it up for myself, if you don’t mind.’

      ‘No, certainly not, you get on and do what you want,’ Muriel said, making Angela smile as she remembered how fussy Muriel had been when she first arrived at St Saviour’s.

      Angela left the kitchen with her tray and met Nancy in the hall. Terry’s sister had settled well into her new role at St Saviour’s, even though Angela knew she worried about her young brother in the special clinic Mark Adderbury had found for him. Terry was better than he had been, but still not mentally stable enough to be allowed out yet.

      Nancy willingly agreed to help with the jam making, and went into the kitchen. Angela pressed for the lift to come down from the next floor. She was lost in thought as it whirred up to her office floor. As she got out and walked past the sick and isolation wards, she saw Mark come out. He stopped, smiled hesitantly as he saw her, and then took the tray from her. Angela went on ahead and opened her office door. Mark brought the tray in and deposited it on her desk. She offered him some tea, but he shook his head.

      ‘Mustn’t stop long,’ he said. ‘I was thinking I should telephone or come and see you, soon. How are you, Angela?’

      ‘Very well, Mark – but how are you? I haven’t seen you to talk properly since … oh, after the concert we had at Easter. I understand you were away at a conference over the summer?’

      ‘Yes, amongst other things. I always seem to be in a hurry these days.’

      ‘Well, it’s nice to see you …’

      ‘Actually, the concert was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about, Angela. Everyone was so pleased with that, and it raised much more than the price of the tickets in donations. I was thinking perhaps we might have a Christmas concert this year …’

      ‘How funny, so was I!’ Angela said, a laugh escaping her. ‘I know it’s too early to be thinking of it yet. Muriel was quite alarmed when I mentioned Christmas – she’s having staff problems.’

      ‘I expect you have plenty of them here.’

      ‘It isn’t easy to find reliable staff. And now we’ve lost one of our best girls – Sally Rush is leaving to take up nursing.’

      ‘How is she these days?’ Mark said frowning. ‘It was a terrible shock losing Andrew Markham that way … he was a brilliant man, both as a surgeon and with those marvellous books of his.’

      ‘Yes, the children still love them. Nancy told me that some of them ask her why there are no new books.’

      ‘Nancy seems to be doing well here.’

      ‘She’s learning a lot, assisting Muriel and helping with the younger children, but naturally she can’t forget poor Terry and what happened. She visits her brother occasionally, but …’

      ‘Terry’s