Jenny's War by Margaret Dickinson Read Free Book Online

’ave a bath?’
    ‘It would be best, dear. We ought to try to – to try to get rid of your – er – of what’s troubling you.’
    Jenny scowled.
    ‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ Christine said, backing away thankfully.
    Mabel sighed as she was left alone with the child, wishing heartily that her husband would hurry home.
    The argument raged for the rest of the morning. Whilst Mabel Tomkins gave her milk and biscuits and began to prepare lunch, the child flatly refused even to wash her face. She sat at the table, drinking the milk and leaving a white ‘moustache’ on her upper lip. She munched on the biscuits and scratched her head often. Mabel shuddered inwardly, but tried to keep a bright smile on her face. She avoided broaching the delicate subject of the girl’s hygiene. She was waiting until her husband came home.
    ‘Hello.’ Len Tomkins stopped in surprise as he entered the back door and saw Jenny sitting at the kitchen table. ‘What’re you doing here?’
    Mabel, her eyes anxious, beckoned him towards the door leading further into the house.
    ‘You needn’t whisper. I know what you’re goin’ ter say,’ Jenny piped up. ‘Them ’orrible old women say I’ve got head lice and they don’t want me staying wiv ’em.’
    ‘Oh dear.’ Mr Tomkins glanced helplessly at his wife. ‘I haven’t another place for her. I’m already having a job finding billets for the next lot of arrivals. I’m sorry, love, but we’ll just have to keep her here for a day or two until—’
    Jenny sprang up from the table. ‘I ain’t having a bath or my hair washed.’
    Len held out his hand, palm outwards, placatingly. ‘No – no, all right.’
    ‘But—’ Mabel began, but Len shook his head. ‘I’ll find her somewhere,’ he promised and then lowered his voice, ‘And they can deal with the – er – problem.’
    Behind her glass of milk, Jenny smiled.

Seven
    Two days passed before Len had an idea. Two days that passed so slowly for Mabel. The child ate heartily – that was no problem. But getting her to wash even just her face was a battleground. ‘I don’t reckon even an army drill sergeant could deal with this one.’
    ‘Maybe we should send her to the front,’ Len joked. ‘She’d likely repel the enemy better than our lads.’
    Mabel couldn’t see the funny side but glared at him as she delivered her ultimatum. ‘You’d better find a place for that child and be quick about it. How I’m ever going to fumigate that bed after she’s gone – the whole room, if it comes to that – I just don’t know. Maybe even the whole house. Ugh!’ She shuddered.
    ‘Mabel, love, don’t be so hard on the poor kid. It’s not her fault.’
    ‘What sort of parents has she got? That’s what I’d like to know.’
    ‘According to Miss Chisholm—’
    Mabel looked puzzled.
    ‘Her teacher,’ Len explained. ‘She’s only got a mother and – well – not to put too fine a point on it, the child has to put up with a succession of “uncles”, if you get my meaning.’
    Mabel stared at him, appalled, before saying, ‘Well, it’s still no reason for her to be so dirty.’ But her tone had softened and she was beginning to understand her husband’s reasoning. It wasn’t the poor child’s fault. She sighed. ‘I suppose we’d better resign ourselves to keeping her, then. But if we do, Len, somehow we’re going to get her into a bath.’
    ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said slowly. ‘I saw Miles Thornton on Sunday. He and his family had listened to Mr Chamberlain’s declaration of war on the wireless.’
    ‘Him at Ravensfleet Manor? Charlotte’s husband?’
    ‘The very same.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘He and Charlotte are offering to take an evacuee.’
    ‘Why didn’t you say so before? Let’s get her bag packed and on her way.’
    ‘Whoa, there. Hold your horses, love,’ Len laughed. ‘We ought to think this through. This is the manor we’re talking about. Miles Thornton became the local