Read Online Jenny's War by Margaret Dickinson - Free Book Online Page B

at him. He was tall with fair, curly hair and blue eyes that sparkled with fun and laughter. He stepped through the water flooding the floor and squatted down beside the bath, holding out his hand. ‘Hello, I’m Georgie. I’m very pleased to meet you. Would you like me to dry your hair for you, while Charlotte clears up all this mess?’
    Jenny considered for a long moment then she smiled suddenly, quite unaware of the difference her smile made. It was like the sun appearing from behind a stormy sky. It transformed her mutinous little face, turning her into a pretty child in the blink of an eye. She nodded and then clambered to stand up.
    Charlotte wrapped the huge white towel round her. ‘Take her to the nursery. Kitty’s been busy all morning cleaning it and lighting a fire in there. It should be cosy by now.’
    As Georgie picked her up and carried her from the bathroom, Jenny wound her arms around his neck and clung to him. He carried her into the room Charlotte had shown her earlier – the one with all the toys that she’d been given permission to play with. The little girl from the poorest streets in the city could hardly believe her good fortune. The only thing she hadn’t liked in this household so far had been the bath. But now, as the handsome young man sat down on the hearth rug beside her in front of the fire, she had to admit – though only to herself – that it was nice to feel clean, and so cosy and warm too.
    ‘Now,’ Georgie was saying, ‘let’s get that hair dry.’
    Jenny sat patiently whilst he rubbed her hair with a warm, dry towel.
    ‘My, what pretty blond curls you’ve got,’ Georgie murmured.
    Jenny giggled. ‘You sound like the big, bad wolf in “Little Red Riding Hood”.’
    Georgie laughed too – a deep chuckle that made Jenny smile all the more. ‘Oh dear, do I? Well, I promise you I’m not a big, bad wolf.’
    Jenny twisted her head round to look at him. No, she thought, he doesn’t look like a wolf. She liked the way his eyes crinkled up when he smiled – a smile that seemed to light up the whole of his face.
    ‘There, I think that’ll do,’ he said, giving her hair a final rub. ‘Now, have you got a nightie and dressing gown?’
    Jenny shook her head.
    ‘Oh – er – right, then I’ll fetch a blanket to wrap you in. I won’t be a minute.’
    Georgie left the room and returned almost at once carrying a blanket from his own room. When she was snugly wrapped in it he asked, ‘Shall I read you my favourite story? One that Charlotte used to read to me when I was little?’
    Jenny stared at him without answering immediately. Then she asked, ‘Why d’you call ’er Charlotte and not Mum?’
    ‘Because she’s not my mother. My mother died when I was born and my father married Charlotte – ooh, let me think—’ he wrinkled his forehead – ‘about eleven years ago now.’
    ‘Is she your wicked step-muvver?’
    Georgie threw back his head and laughed. ‘Heavens, no. Charlotte is the sweetest, kindest woman you could ever meet.’
    ‘Has she got any children, then?’
    Georgie’s face sobered and he whispered sadly, ‘No. She and my father would love to have children, especially’ – now he smiled wistfully – ‘a little girl. My father always wanted a little girl, but he only got three boys.’
    ‘Didn’t he want you, then?’
    For a moment Georgie looked shocked at her question. ‘Oh yes, of course he did. He’s never, ever made any of us feel unwanted.’ Just in time, Georgie stopped himself from saying, ‘Not even me when my poor mother died giving birth to me.’ The girl was too young to be burdened with such thoughts. But Jenny was a lot more streetwise and knowledgeable than he gave her credit for and she tugged the young man’s heartstrings when she said, in a matter-of-fact manner, ‘I haven’t got a dad and my mum didn’t want me. She ses I’m her little mistake.’
    Georgie didn’t know what to say, but his arm tightened