Page 9

BEFORE

March 1973

Sally

Sunshine House Orphanage, Hammersmith, London

Sally placed the card into the white envelope and licked the gum to seal it. Tomorrow was Elsie’s eighteenth birthday. And the day that Elsie would leave Sunshine House forever. Sister Jones would provide a cake after their tea, as she did for every girl in her care. Everyone would sing ‘Happy Birthday’ while Elsie blew out her candles and made a wish. And then Mrs Burton would come one final time for Elsie.

Sally sighed as she thought about the many birthday wishes she’d made over the years in Sunshine House. At first, she truly believed in the magic of birthday candles. Each year, Sally made the same wish – Come get me, Mum. Take me home again. But she’d long since realised that wishes were not for girls like her.

Sally closed her eyes and tried to bring her mum’s face back into focus. It had been almost ten years since she’d last seen her. Her mother’s face, voice, smell and touch had faded like an out-of-focus Polaroid snap. Occasionally, she’d hear the Beatles on the radio, and the lyrics would bring her mum back to her. ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’ had always been one of her mother’s favourite songs. Her mum would reach over as she sang along off-key to the tune. Then she’d beckon Sally to her and together they’d hold hands, sing about love and dance around their tiny flat.

There were other memories, too, that she thought were long buried but which could surprise her occasionally. Only a few weeks back, Sister Jones had arrived at the common room with a punnet of peaches. Round and plump, their soft flesh was juicy and fragrant. She’d cut them into quarters so each girl could have a share and an image had hit Sally so sharply that it winded her.

Her mother’s perfume – Avon’s Pretty Peach, Eau de Cologne – had an ornate peach cap on the bottle. Sally was obsessed with it, begging her mum to let her try it. But her mother wasn’t one for sharing. She’d shake her head and say it was for big girls only. But one day she’d made an exception and squirted it onto Sally and herself. It was the same day that she’d sent Sally away. While many of Sally’s early memories were clouded by the fog of time, that day was crystal clear.

She’d turned to Elsie, her confidante and shared the memory. ‘Peaches always make me think of Mum.’

Elsie had replied sadly, ‘You’re lucky – it’s rotten eggs for me.’

And Sally had giggled, thinking this was funny, and though Elsie smiled along, she had tears in her eyes, so Sally gave her an extra-big hug.

Now, Sally started when Elsie appeared in the doorway. ‘What are you up to, hiding away in here?’ Elsie asked, as she walked inside. She’d had another growth spurt, and her knee-length black stockings only reached halfway up her leg.

Sally stuffed the card and small gift behind her back. But Elsie didn’t miss a thing and smiled knowingly.

She sat crosslegged on the bed beside Sally. ‘You looked sad when I walked in.’

Sally’s eyes met hers, and the words came tumbling out. ‘I was thinking about Mum,’ she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elsie shook her head, a deep frown creasing her forehead. ‘Not that again, Sally. Nothing good comes from dwelling on the past. Your mum is gone. Same as mine. You’ve got to forget she ever existed.’ Elsie’s lips pursed, and her eyes took on a distant look, as they always did when the subject of mothers came up.

‘Do you think my mum is dead too?’ Sally asked softly. And her face flushed because she’d worried about this for some time. When her mind brought her to dark places late at night, Sally wondered if this was why her mum had never come back for her. She felt wicked for thinking this, but it was easier to bear the thought of a dead mother than one who did not love her.

Elsie sighed deeply, then shrugged. ‘I don’t know that, treacle. But I know that if she is alive you’re better off without her.’

‘Because she doesn’t want me,’ Sally replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

‘Yeah,’ Elsie agreed, her eyes softening with sympathy.

Sally hesitated momentarily, then decided to be brave and ask Elsie a question once more that she’d dodged for years. ‘How did your mum die?’

‘What does it matter how? She’s dead; that’s all you need to know.’

The air was thick with unspoken weight, and the room was filled with uncertainty and discomfort. A couple of moments passed, stretching endlessly as both girls tried to find the right words.

Then Elsie saved the day by pointing behind Sally’s back. ‘What you got there, then?’

And because Sally didn’t want to think about mothers and the heartbreaking choices they’d made, she happily pulled the gift and card out of its hiding space behind her back.

‘Oh, all right then. I was going to give it to you tomorrow. But I know what you’re like! I’ll turn my back for five minutes, and you’ll be searching our bedroom for it.’

Elsie’s laugh tinkled through the room, magically dispersing all sad thoughts. She picked up the card and ran her finger along the seal, opening it carefully without damaging the envelope.

Sally watched her fondly. When it was her birthday, she’d always rip the paper off the gift first and foremost. Not Elsie. She pulled out the card, taking in every detail. So Sally had taken her time choosing it, knowing it was important to her friend. The card had a sketch of two girls, one blonde and one brunette, wearing pretty tea dresses as they drank from blue-and-white china cups.

‘I thought they looked like us two,’ Sally said shyly.

‘May the blessings of love, joy and peace be yours throughout the year,’ Elsie read out loud. Then, with a smile that lit up her face, she said, ‘With all my love, your best friend forever, Sally. Oh, I love this card. I’ll keep it always.’

Then Elsie unwrapped the brown paper, revealing a small black jewellery box. Sally held her breath as Elsie opened the lid, only exhaling when she saw the genuine surprise and delight flood her best friend’s face.

‘It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever owned,’ Elsie said breathlessly, taking it out of its box to look closer at the silver ring, with a large oval black stone set into an ornate silver clasp.

‘It’s a mood ring. The stone will change colour in response to how you feel. And there’s a card that tells you what each colour means. Put it on!’

Elsie obliged, slipping the ring onto the middle finger of her right hand. They leaned in and watched the ring as the colour slowly morphed from inky black to light blue.

Sally pulled the small card out from the ring box and said with delight, ‘That means you are calm, comfortable and relaxed!’

‘Well, it’s perceptive because that’s how I feel. You know, I’ve always wanted one of these, but how could you afford one?’ Elsie’s pretty face crumpled into a frown.

‘I got it in the British Red Cross charity shop on Old Bond Street.’ Sally hadn’t wanted to admit this fact. She continued in a rush, ‘But the shopkeeper said that the ring is new. It was an unwanted gift, donated.’

Elsie’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. ‘It’s my favourite gift that I’ve ever received. I love it. I really do.’ Then Elsie pulled Sally into her embrace, hugging her tightly, letting her go with a squeal. ‘It’s changed colours again! Now it’s violet! What does that mean?’

Sally quickly checked the card and said, ‘It means you are happy.’

She reached under the bed and pulled out another bag. ‘I got something else when I was in the second-hand shop.’ Sally opened the bag and pulled out a plastic doll’s head, with long blonde hair. ‘It’s the Super Girl’s World styling head. You can change the length of the hair, and the colour too.’

She stopped speaking, feeling self-conscious. She glanced up at Elsie, half expecting her to laugh.

But Elsie understood immediately. ‘You can practise hairstyles on this. Genius. And it will give you something to do when I’m gone. You’ll be bereft without me,’ she finished with a wink.

Sally felt a rush of happiness for her best friend, the only person who understood Sally’s dreams, followed quickly by despair that Elsie would soon be gone – because she would be bereft.

Elsie’s eyes narrowed as she saw her friend’s bottom lip quiver. She quickly joked, ‘You can’t let Housemother see it, though. She’ll have her shears out and will give it a bloody bob like the rest of us!’

The following afternoon, the time came for Elsie to leave. Sally found her friend in their bedroom, packing her suitcase.

‘I hope you’ve packed your plaid pyjamas with their matching quilted dressing gown,’ Sally joked as she leaned against the door frame with a cheeky grin.

‘Naturally. I wouldn’t leave home without them. Because, after all, these beauties are . . .’ Elsie replied, pausing so that she and Sally could scream in unison, ‘flame retardant!’

Elsie and Sally clutched each other as they squealed with laughter at their inside joke at Housemother’s expense, who had been most excited when she’d handed out the new night attire to everyone the previous Christmas, repeatedly saying that she’d bought them especially because they were flame retardant.

‘I mean . . . at least you won’t spontaneously burst into flames . . .’ Sally said, which caused another round of almost hysterical laughter.

‘Nor will I ever attract a husband, the state of me in them!’ Elsie replied, holding up the pyjamas with disdain. ‘When I earn my first pay cheque, I will buy a slinky, silky nightgown in bright fuchsia or scarlet red. And I’ll get you one too, so it’s waiting for you as soon as you leave here.’

‘I don’t want you to go,’ Sally admitted in a small voice. All traces of her merriment were gone now, and a deep furrow creased her forehead. The prospect of three long years without her best friend was daunting. ‘I can’t see why they won’t let you stay here a bit longer. It’s cruel sending you off on your own.’

Elsie sighed. ‘You know that’s not how the system works. You turn eighteen, and it’s bye-bye, care home – hello, big bad world. But I do wish you could come with me.’ A bittersweet smile played on her lips as she looked at her friend. ‘I can’t get my head around the fact that I won’t wake up to see your mug opposite me every morning.’ Then her face softened, and tears glistened in her eyes. ‘We’ve done everything together, haven’t we, since that day you arrived here.’

Sally knew that she had to be brave, because, despite Elsie’s bravado, she could see how scared she was. So she tried to offer some solace. ‘We have, but we will again when I leave here too. The time will go by so fast. You’ll see. And you have to write to me every day,’ Sally said, her pink lips now pouting prettily.

‘I’m not much of a writer – you know that – but I’ll try to send a letter every week if I can.’

And Sally knew that next year, on her birthday, she’d make a new wish, that Elsie and she would remain best friends forever, just as the card had said they would.