Wartime Family by Lizzie Lane Read Free Book Online

came to the rescue, holding a cane chair before her. ‘Here’s a chair. Sit her on this.’
    The policeman obeyed. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘tell me what happened. You say you left your granddaughter in her pushchair outside a shop.’
    Mary Anne nodded.
    ‘And which shop was this?’
    Gertrude answered for her. ‘This shop, of course. I saw her arrive.’
    ‘Right. And at what time?’
    ‘No more than twenty minutes ago.’ Gertrude replied.
    The policeman patted her hand. ‘Now, don’t worry, me dear. It could be just kids playing a prank. That’ll be all it is. Leave it to me. I’ll take a walk around and see if I can see her. If I don’t find her, I’ll blow me whistle and get some help.’
    ‘Daisy! Edith! Henrietta!’
    Gertrude was holding the shop door open. Her three assistants came rushing at her call.
    ‘This lady has lost her granddaughter. She was in a pushchair—’
    ‘A cream-coloured pushchair with chrome wheels,’ Mary Anne interjected.
    ‘A cream-coloured pushchair with chrome wheels,’ Gertrude repeated. ‘Now hurry up and find it. Whoever’s taken it can’t have got far. And run,’ she added when it seemed as though they might only stroll. Her three assistants scurried off in three different directions.
    ‘A nice cup of sweet, strong tea is in order.’
    ‘I could do with one,’ said the police sergeant.
    Gertrude threw him a sour look. ‘I was referring to this lady. It’s her that’s in shock.’
    He looked crestfallen.
    Gertrude partially relented. ‘You’re welcome to a cup, Sergeant, once you’ve found the baby.’
    ‘Of course!’
    He sounded as though he’d been fatally wounded, but he went to do his duty, striding off down the street, looking over the crowds for some sign of the missing pushchair.
    ‘You’d better come inside, dear,’ said Gertrude.
    Gently but firmly, Mary Anne was taken back into the shop, the chair hanging over Gertrude’s free arm.
    Tea was poured from a steaming brown pot. After two sugars and milk had been added, the cup and saucer were forced into Mary Anne’s shaking hands.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ said Gertrude.
    ‘I can’t help it. I keep thinking the worst might have happened. Perhaps some woman who can’t have children might have taken her. And then what do I do? What will my daughter say if that’s happened?’
    ‘It
won’t
have happened,’ said Gertrude. ‘Just because a woman can’t have children doesn’t mean she steals them off the street.
I
certainly wouldn’t.’
    Gertrude’s voice had softened. Mary Anne looked into the kind, grey eyes and instantly understood.
    Gertrude smiled. ‘Quite right, dear. I can see you’ve guessed.’ She sighed. ‘Percival and I were never blessed. But …’ She straightened and slapped her hip. ‘We both found other things in life to fill our time and take pride in. Helping those less fortunate than us, whoever and wherever they may be. That’s our creed. Ah!’ she said, looking suddenly straight at the window. ‘My troop has triumphed. They’ve found her!’
    Mary Anne leapt from her chair as the women and pushchair bundled into the shop.
    ‘Mathilda!’
    Her granddaughter was sound asleep, pink face against white cotton pillow.
    ‘She was outside Reynolds, the biscuit shop,’ said the woman called Edith, a lady with honey-coloured streaks in her hair and a twinkle in her eye. If anyone ever stood up to the overbearing Gertrude, she was the one most likely.
    Mary Anne’s attention was focused on Mathilda. She wanted to check her all over to make sure she was unharmed.
    ‘She’s fine,’ said Edith, smiling up into her face.
    ‘I can’t believe it,’ said Mary Anne. ‘Did you see who did it?’
    Edith shook her head. ‘No.’
    Mary Anne frowned. ‘But why?’
    The police sergeant had heard the news and joined them. ‘Just kids,’ he said with an air of having experienced the very worst of what youngsters could do.
    She could do nothing but accept he was right. There