Refuge of Delayed Souls

Part 26 - Gloved Hand

December 1945

So much had changed over the past few months that Anne had no idea where or how to start. Christmas had never looked bleaker. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to turn and she knew that they could not stay here forever. It had been kind of her aunt and uncle to take them in but they needed to find a place of their own.

Tears pricked her eyes and to avoid them she turned her attention back to the young priest sipping his tea opposite. She stifled a giggle. The situation was so bloody desperate it was almost laughable. She wanted to scream out, "Oh yes Father – you can help all right! You can start by telling all those sanctimonious swine who call themselves good Catholics to stop blanking us and judging our children! You can tell them to help in finding us somewhere to live rather than refusing to rent us a house! You can tell them to go to hell!”

Instead, aware of the fact that Father Bailey was a good, kind man and a true Christian who did not deserve her bile, she swallowed the words and her bitterness with a mouthful of tea. He was no more responsible for the actions of a few of his parishioners than she was for those of her husband and father.

“So, Anne, the Church and myself are here for you whenever you need us. I will keep my eyes and ears open and let you know if I hear of anyone who has a few rooms spare. I am sure we will be able to sort something out. Now, work for Billy could be a problem but I am sure something will turn up.”

“If not, I should be able to find work,” she managed to say with a smile.

A short while later, a continuous blanket of snow was falling as Anne showed Father Bailey out of the small terraced house and watched him walk away down Market Street. The oldest three of her children were huddled together on a patch of spare ground some distance away from a much larger group of rough looking and sparsely clad children who were building a snowman. Anne assumed that as usual they had not been invited to join in.

Gathering together a handful of snow that had fallen on the window ledge she moulded it into a snowball and threw it in the direction of her children and shouted, “Give me five minutes to get ready and I’ll join you for a snowball fight!” Her heart soared as she listened to their delighted screams; it felt good to learn she still had a heart, no matter how broken and bruised she felt.

“Mrs Lawrence?”

Anne turned to face a lady she assumed to be in her thirties and who was dressed head to toe in grey. She wondered how on earth she had failed to notice her when Father Bailey left.

“Yes?”

The lady extended a gloved hand. “Mabel. I am an associate of Mr Birch, the gentleman who represented your husband at his trial.”

“Oh! Yes...” Anne wiped her damp hand on the fabric of her tweed skirt and reached for the one that had been offered to her.

“Do you mind if I come in for a minute? I won’t keep you long. Only, Mr Birch asked me to call and advise that there is a situation vacant within our organisation which may suit Mr Lawrence. It offers the benefit of living accommodation and he...”

Anne interrupted, “A position with rooms?”

“Yes,” Mabel smiled encouragingly. “Mr Birch wondered if Mr Lawrence might be interested?”

“What kind of a situation?” Anne asked suspiciously.

“General office duties. A few telephone calls, greeting and meeting people – that sort of thing.”

Anne’s heart grew heavier. "I’m afraid Billy has no training in that area. Why would Mr Birch think that he did?”

“Well,” replied Mabel. “There is no training, really, that would ready him for a position with RoYds – none other than life experience that is...”