it a sense of promise. The nuns were growing pumpkins and I imagined that before long we’d be busy scraping out the seeds and chopping them up to make pumpkin soup.
One Sunday afternoon I decided to go for a little walk in the gardens. Janet came with me and we meandered along the overgrown paths, remembering the start of every school year. I’d gone to a little village primary school before the Secondary Modern and, although Janet had attended an enormous inner city one, it was clear we both had fond memories of those early years in our primary schools.
‘After my dad got himself killed it was awful,’ Janet explained, as we breathed in the moist autumnal air. ‘My mum took to drink for a bit; Nan looked after us kids till Mum got back on her feet, but she ran a launderette and didn’t have time for us. School was the one place where I felt looked after. I had this teacher – Mrs Carr; she probably felt sorry for me, so she gave me special treatment. Always let me sit on her lap at story time. I felt so safe in that place. It was warm in those classrooms and there was a lovely order to the day. I hated the summer holidays. Was always glad to get back to school.’
‘Me too,’ I agreed, remembering the endless days of summers spent mostly cooped up indoors with Mother, who would never put down her dustpan and brush and suggest a nice trip to the beach or a cycle ride along the lanes or anything like the lovely outings Penny used to go on with her family. Sometimes Penny’s mother would invite me to go with them and I had vivid memories of enormous ice creams and being wrapped in a thick warm towel after an icy swim in the sea and long hikes through the countryside and picnics by the river. Those windows of time spent with Penny were magical, but on the whole the summer holidays felt long and tedious. September heralded the return to a life that was a little bit more interesting.
We’d just turned the corner to make our way back to the Home when we saw one of the new girls hurrying towards us.
‘You’re Susan, aren’t you?’ she shouted across to me. ‘Susan Jones?’
‘Yes!’ I yelled.
‘Better hurry! You’ve got a visitor! Matron said to come and get you.’
I looked at Janet and gripped her hand. ‘Do you think it’s him?’ I asked her.
‘Bound to be,’ she said and we scurried as fast as we could back into the Home. I quickly washed my face and hands, then went through to the visitors’ room where I found myself momentarily disappointed as I saw it wasn’t Robin. But my disappointment was short-lived because it was Penny – my dearest friend – and seeing her there, a reminder of home, made me burst into tears.
‘What are you crying for, you silly sod?’ she said, coming over and giving me a hug. ‘I haven’t got long so don’t waste all your time crying! Come and sit down and tell me why you haven’t written to me.’
‘I have!’ I told her, wiping my tears with a hanky. ‘I’ve sent two or three letters. I’ve been wondering why you hadn’t replied!’
‘That’s strange,’ Penny said, reaching across the table to take my hands. ‘I’ve sent a couple of letters. But never mind, I’m here now.’
‘But how did you get here?’
‘My dad brought me. He’s waiting out in the truck. I told him we had to come and see you. I’ve been so worried about you! I couldn’t think what on earth had happened back in the summer when suddenly there was no sign of you! Then I bumped into Robin in the library and he told me everything. He gave me the address of this place so I could write to you. But when I didn’t get any replies I told Dad we needed to come and check on you. Make sure you were okay.’
‘You’re a dear friend,’ I told her. ‘But listen, you need to tell me about Robin. How is he?’ I asked desperately.
‘He’s ever so forlorn looking, let me tell you! I saw him last week and told him I was going to visit you. He asked me to meet him the next day and gave me this for you,’ Penny said, letting go of my hands and rummaging around in her handbag. She passed over something rectangular, wrapped