An Orphan’s Wish: The new, most heartwarming of christmas novels you will read in 2018

Lana gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. ‘Long as you keep it looking that way,’ she said.

The rest of the evening passed in more or less friendly conversation. Janice told her a bit about Wendy Booth.

‘Nice woman. Engaged to be married, poor dear.’

‘Have you met him?’

‘No, I don’t need to. Don’t trust any of ’em.’ Janice pulled a face. ‘He’s in the Merchant Navy – that’s all I know. She doesn’t see him for months on end.’

A cold chill slid down Lana’s spine. But this sailor was alive, whoever he was, and Dickie was dead. She felt Janice’s curious gaze.

‘What about your love life? Have you got a bloke hidden somewhere?’ Janice asked.

‘Not really,’ Lana said, her eyes pricking. ‘Look, Janice, I’ve enjoyed the evening and I don’t want to sound rude, but it’s been quite a day, so I think I’ll turn in early. Do you mind?’

‘Suits me,’ Janice said, her lips tightly pulled.

‘I’ll say goodnight, then.’

Janice simply nodded.

After cleaning her teeth, Lana drew the blackout curtains. She’d laid out her nightdress earlier so she slipped it on and climbed into bed. It was still only just gone nine but the room was cold. She would read for a few minutes in the dim bedside light. Tomorrow was going to be a day to reckon with.

She sat against the pillow, the iron bedhead digging into her shoulders, her book propped up against her bent knees, but couldn’t settle to read. Her mind was too busy thinking about Janice. She’d felt the teacher’s resentment loud and clear but had been shocked at what she’d had to go through, hearing her husband tell her to her face he’d fallen in love with another woman. Janice was attractive with her dark hair and dark brown eyes, but she obviously hadn’t laughed much lately. Lana had the distinct feeling that Janice didn’t normally go into the kind of detail she’d poured out yesterday evening to most people.

But Janice had been better company after she’d disclosed the reason why she’d been so upset to share what she’d thought of as her cottage. Lana wished she’d been brave enough to tell her about Dickie. It would have been a relief to talk to a stranger about him.

To stop herself from wallowing in self-pity she opened her book and bent her head to focus on the print, but the words blurred one into the other and she yawned again. This time she felt herself drifting …

Lana was up and dressed and had eaten her breakfast before Janice came downstairs, bleary-eyed.

‘There’s tea in the pot,’ Lana told her.

‘I feel as though I’ve spent the night boozing,’ Janice said, rubbing her eyes. ‘Don’t know what’s the matter with me.’

‘Maybe if you had something to eat in the mornings you’d feel better,’ Lana said briskly. ‘There’s a little porridge left over. I was going to give it to the birds.’

‘They’re welcome to it.’ Janice pulled a face. ‘But tea’d be nice.’

‘I’m off then – first day.’ Lana tried to keep any apprehension from her voice, but Janice gave her a sharp look.

‘One bit of bad news,’ she said. ‘Mrs Danvers will have to show you where everything is as Wendy and Joan Ford and I have classes first thing. I don’t think you’ve met Joan. She teaches the younger ones.’

‘I can cope with Mrs Danvers,’ Lana said. ‘You should see the kind of headmaster I came up against at my last school.’

‘Do you mean you were a teacher like Wendy and me?’ Janice demanded.

Lana nodded, furious with herself for letting that piece of information slip out.

‘So you’ve not had any experience as a headmistress?’

‘Not exactly,’ Lana admitted. ‘But I’ve been in teaching all my working life and—’

‘So’ve I,’ Janice interrupted, ‘but they turned down my application.’ There was deep resentment in her tone.

Oh, not another thing for Janice to get worked up about.

‘I’m sorry,’ Lana said, meaning it.

‘Not your fault,’ Janice said, her brow furrowing. ‘I bet it’s because I’m soon to be a divorced woman bringing shame to the school. I suppose I’m lucky they didn’t get rid of me.’ Janice gulped down the rest of her tea and rose to her feet. ‘Well, I suppose I’d better get ready to face another day. Good luck, Lana. I’ll be interested to hear how you get on.’

Mrs Dayton looked up from her typewriter as Lana opened the office door and strode in.

‘Oh, it’s you.’

Lana fought down the bubble of anger at such rudeness. She pasted a professional smile on her face.

‘Good morning, Mrs Danvers.’ Lana hesitated for a the-atrical moment, then said in a mortified voice, ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I mean Mrs Dayton, of course.’

The woman threw her a look that was supposed to have turned her to stone, but Lana didn’t bat an eyelid. Instead, she continued in an extra pleasant voice: ‘I know you must be busy but I wonder if you can spare me half an hour to show me my office, and where things are generally – keys and such.’

Mrs Dayton gave her a pitying look.

‘Your office,’ she said, mockingly. ‘You will be sharing my office.’ She jerked her head towards the second desk, pushed tight into a corner.

‘Is that where the previous headmaster sat?’ Lana asked with an innocent expression.

‘Of course not,’ the woman snapped. ‘His office is through there.’ This time she jerked her head towards a closed door. ‘And he’ll be coming back once this war is over.’

‘But until that time it will be my office while I’m taking his place,’ Lana said firmly, with a smile she was far from feeling. Aware of the woman’s malevolent eyes on her, she marched over to the door and tried the handle. It was locked. She turned. ‘May I please have the key, Mrs Dayton?’

‘Mr Benton specifically asked me to keep it locked at all times.’

‘The key.’ Lana held out her hand, palm upwards.

Pursing her lips, Mrs Dayton opened a drawer and took her time looking for it. Finally, she handed it to Lana without a word.

‘Thank you.’ Lana looked towards the files on Mrs Dayton’s desk. ‘I think I’ll find my way round Mr Benton’s office and leave you to get on. Perhaps after lunch you’ll show me what you’re working on – explain exactly what your rôle is.’

‘I am his personal secretary,’ Mrs Dayton said, leaving a gap between every word.

‘That’s very good news,’ Lana said, smiling. ‘I’ll be depending upon you to do the same for me.’

One – nil to me, Lana thought, as she unlocked the door with a tremulous hand, thankful Mrs Dayton couldn’t see it. She mustn’t show any sign of weakness. She shut the door behind her and walked over to Mr Benton’s desk. He was a methodical man by the look of it; nothing on it except a telephone, an ashtray, a lined pad and a few pencils in a holder.

She spent the next hour checking the records for the number of children who attended: sixty-three in total, according to the cards in the index card drawer. She made a mental note to read through each one giving brief information on age, date of birth, subjects studied, et cetera before the week was out. Their school reports must be kept in a separate file, she thought, searching in another drawer. Yes, here they were. She removed half a dozen files and opened one. It was Priscilla’s, from her previous school, The Liverpool College for Girls, dated 10th January 1943.

Priscilla Morgan, b. 21st March 1931.