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

This morning the customers were even more demanding than usual. She was tired of reminding them that there was a war on.

‘Make us a cup of tea, love,’ her father said at ten past ten. ‘I’m that thirsty I can’t wait until eleven.’

She gave him a fond look. His eyes were drooping, not masking the lines of strain around them.

‘All right, Dad. I could do with one myself.’ She nodded over to the two boxes of biscuits that had just been delivered. ‘I’ll sort them out when I come back. There might be a few broken ones that we couldn’t possibly sell to our customers.’ She grinned. ‘Not to the adults, anyway.’

Her father chuckled and carried on stacking the shelf with the dozen tins of soup. No doubt they’d all have disappeared by the end of the morning, Lana thought, and who knew when there’d be another delivery.

She picked up an envelope her mother had left for her on the kitchen table and studied the handwriting. She could hear Mum upstairs and smiled. It was changing-the-beds day and nothing would alter her routine even though Lana had told her not to do it by herself. That she’d be there in a few minutes to help. Sliding the blade of a knife underneath the flap she pulled out a typed sheet of paper and glanced at the signature at the bottom. G. Shepherd. Curious. Her eyes lifted to the beginning.

18th March 1943

Dear Miss Ashwin,

I’m writing to you to inform you the situation has changed regarding the position for a temporary headmistress. Therefore, if you are still interested I would be very pleased to arrange for you to come for an interview as soon as possible.

I look forward to hearing from you shortly.

Respectfully yours,

G. Shepherd

Lana read the letter through twice to be sure she’d understood it correctly. Reading between the lines Mr Shepherd sounded worried. It was obvious the other person hadn’t turned out as he’d hoped. She laid the sheet of paper on the table while she filled the kettle and prepared the tea tray, her head spinning. What should she do? She wasn’t ever going to pass her medical for one of the services, so that was out. There was no doubt about it – she’d loved every moment of teaching before she’d come home to give her parents a hand. It was just that joining one of the forces had seemed the only way to fight Dickie’s murderers and keep faithful to his memory.

She took her mother’s cup into the front room and read Mr Shepherd’s letter out.

‘There you are, love,’ her mother smiled. ‘I told you something would turn up. You just need patience.’ She looked at her daughter. ‘I hope you’ll write back straightaway and fix a time to see him.’

‘I think I will,’ Lana said slowly as she folded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope. ‘Yes, I will.’

Chapter Three (#u55d91cfa-aeb5-5365-b6d5-01115efd9321)

Five days later Lana was on the train to Liverpool.

It had been a long journey with a delay of over an hour when they were close to Liverpool. A siren had shrilled and the train had immediately stopped. Most people in the carriage carried on reading or chatting as though this was a normal daily routine, but Lana’s heart thundered hard in her chest. She flinched at the half-dozen explosions, even though they were muffled, but the train shook with the vibrations, causing her glasses to slip down her nose as she doggedly attempted to read her book.

She’d had no lunch and her stomach rumbled. Now, the pouring rain added to her misery as she waited for the number 42 bus outside Kirkdale station. At least in the train she’d been inside. Drops of water ran under her collar and seeped into her shoes. How much worse could it get?

‘Expect bus’ll be late as usual,’ the woman in front said to her companion. Their umbrellas bobbed as they talked, their accent so strong it was difficult for Lana to catch everything.

‘’S’not their fault, Mags,’ the second lady said as she moved a little to the side to escape her friend’s umbrella spokes. ‘They’ve gorra lot on their plates what with all them holes in the road. I don’t know how they do as well as they do.’

‘It’s your sort who never get things made any better,’ the first woman retorted. ‘You see the good in everyone. It’s ones like me who complain and get changes made. Then you cop the benefit but I end up the stirrer.’

Lana gave a start. It sounded as though the two were about to go into a full-scale row. To her relief the other one chuckled. ‘That’s true. They just think what an old dragon you are and what a lovely woman I am.’

‘If only it were true.’ Mags gave her friend a little push.

So they were only poking fun. She’d have to try to understand their humour if she did end up living here. But she wouldn’t think that far ahead. No point in getting her hopes up.

‘Bingham,’ called out the conductor as the bus slowed to a halt.

Lana glanced at her watch. Already three o’clock. Nearly an hour late. Not a good impression to give.

‘Is the village school very far?’ she asked him as she alighted.

‘No, pet. Not five minutes. It’s just up the road ahead of you. Low red-brick building on the other side. You can’t miss it.’

With the trains often delayed interminably, and sometimes not running at all, Lana had decided to stay the night in a bed-and-breakfast one of her customers had recommended. Her heart gave a little skip of freedom at the thought of being in a place where she wasn’t known. She wouldn’t have to force herself to smile when someone she hadn’t seen for a while enquired, ‘How’s that gorgeous fiancé of yours?’

When she explained, the person would be embarrassed and clearly wish they’d never asked. She’d have to mumble some excuse to rush away before they saw her tears.

She braced herself now and stepped down from the bus, thanking the conductor, relieved to see the rain had eased. The school building came in sight after only a few hundred yards. A sign pointed to ‘Office’ and she hurried through an arched entrance that opened onto a haphazard garden of concrete path, flower borders and patches of vegetables, with one dejected-looking tree stuck in the middle. The path led to a door with a notice: ‘Please ring the bell and enter’.

She found herself in a hall about the size of her parents’ front room. To one side was a recess with a protruding sign: Office. A woman of indecisive age, her hair scraped back into a severe bun, sat peering through a glazed screen, looking Lana up and down before she spoke.

‘Miss Ashwin?’

Lana nodded.

‘You’re very late.’

Not the warmest welcome, Lana thought, as she shrugged off her damp raincoat, giving herself time to respond.

‘I’m really sorry,’ she said, folding her raincoat and laying it across her arm. ‘The poor driver had to make so many detours with all the damaged streets. I don’t envy them their jobs at the moment.’

‘That’s as maybe,’ the woman said with a sniff. ‘Mr Shepherd has been waiting I don’t know how long. I’d better let him know you’ve finally arrived.’

Lana looked around, longing to sit for a few moments after her long journey but there was no seat provided. They obviously didn’t want to let visitors linger too long, she thought, biting back a grimace. What a sombre place. She almost decided she wouldn’t bother seeing Mr Shepherd, but could hear her mother telling her not to be so rude. Well, she’d meet him and be quick about it, saying she realised Liverpool was just too far away, then make some excuse that her parents needed her as they hadn’t been able to find a suitable person to help in the shop. Anything to escape.

These thoughts were churning around her head when she heard someone call her name.

‘Miss Ashwin?’

She swung round to see a figure limping towards her.

‘George Shepherd.’ She held out her hand and he shook hers briefly. ‘Come this way.’

She followed him along a corridor and another short passage where he opened a door on the left and ushered her in.

‘Sit down, Miss Ashwin. Expect you’ve had a frightful journey.’

He spoke in a crisp tone like a military man and didn’t seem to expect a response to his comment. She nodded and took in a breath.

‘Damned nuisance, this bloody war,’ he said, then smiled at her reaction. ‘I do apologise, Miss Ashwin. Too used to being with chaps all day long. Not used to females in the least.’

She smiled, the tension dissipating a little. ‘Don’t mind me,’ she said, thinking he must have been a soldier injured in the war.