The Best in Blountmere Street (The Blountmere Street Series Book 2) by Barbara Arnold Page A

shopping list and getting the shopping bags ready to take with us. It seemed to be contrary to what she’d said about deception.
    The reception area is no more than a cubbyhole, on one wall of which a poster informs visitors, “Jesus loves the little children”, while underneath a yellowing notice states, “Dogs will not be tolerated”.   There are no chairs and the three of us hardly leave any room for a lumpy lady, whose lumpy breasts practically touch my face.
    ‘I’m the Matron of the orphanage, and I’m afraid the children aren’t allowed visitors.’  She looks as if she’s filled with the kapok Bill puts into his armchairs.
    ‘But we’ve come all the way from London to see Tony Addington.  We live in the maisonette downstairs, you see.’  Mum offers her best “afternoon tea” smile.
    The woman doesn’t seem to be impressed, and continues, ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me how you found out Tony Addington was here.’
    ‘I’m afraid we can’t divulge our sources.  Our contacts are strictly confidential.’  Bill joins the conversation, then winks.
    ‘Be that as it may, you are not supposed to be here.’  The Matron takes a deep breath and her breasts rise upwards and then sink.  ‘It’s kinder to the children if they don’t have visitors.  It only unsettles them.  Your contact should have told you that.’
    ‘Surely half an hour wouldn’t do any harm.  If he’s not in, or it’s not convenient, we can go away and come back later.’
    ‘Mr … um,’
    ‘Masters.’
    ‘Mr Masters, you and your wife don’t seem to have understood what I’ve said.  We do not allow anyone to visit.  Have I made myself clear?  I am sorry you’ve had a wasted journey, but that isn’t my fault.  There’s a teashop in the village.  If you wish, you can refresh yourselves there.’
    ‘I beg your pardon, but Mr Masters and I are definitely not … ’ Mum’s face is painted deep red.
    ‘What Mrs Masters means is we are certainly not happy about this.’  Bill doesn’t look as disapproving as he’d probably like to and the Matron squeezes herself through the door.  ‘I am sorry about that, but I have some work to do.  See yourselves out.’
    When we’re outside once again, and with Bill holding her arm, Mum says, ‘I told you this would happen.’  Even though she’s frowning, Mum still looks beautiful in her blue coat and with the colour in her face fading to pale rose.  ‘We’ve come all this way for nothing, so we might as well be going.  There’s no point in hanging around.’
    ‘But what about the picnic?  We can’t go back without having it.  It’s bad enough we won’t be able to see Tony.’  I peer around at the windows, scanning them for a glimpse of him, but I can’t make out any movement.  It’s as if the place is empty.  Perhaps there aren’t any children here at all and it’s a trick to keep people from knowing where they’re really hidden.
    Mention of the picnic reminds Mum of the contents of her shopping bag.  ‘I forgot we’ve brought all this stuff for Tony.  Surely they’ll let us leave it for him.  I’ll call the Matron back.’
    ‘Wait a minute.  I don’t think we should give up that easily,’ Bill restrains her.
    ‘Look, Bill, if they say we can’t see him, we can’t see him.’
    ‘I’m not so sure.  First, let’s find somewhere to eat this picnic.’
    Out of sight of the house we discover a bench surrounded by snowdrops.  In true Mum fashion, she spreads a starched cloth over part of the seat on which she places enamel mugs of thermos flask tea.
    ‘We’ve got bloater paste sandwiches.  We don’t usually have bloater paste.’  I take one and put it on my plate, on which Mum has first placed a doily.
    ‘Your mother must have remembered they’re my favourite,’ Bill replies.
    ‘What makes you think I’d remember something as inconsequential as that!’ Mum responds.  ‘I’ve far more important things on my