by Linda Finlay
Sarah nodded, knowing how hard it was for some families to survive. ‘Presumably those who live here are orphans, then?’
‘In the main, although there are some who have fathers fonder of the bottle than of them, and then there are those born to prostitutes. As I said earlier, our job is to remove them from these bad influences and give them a chance.’
‘It’s admirable work you do here, Uncle,’ Sarah declared. ‘I thought I’d seen something of life but of course Father mainly dealt with the poorly, although some were needy too.’
‘I knew you’d understand, my dear,’ her uncle nodded. ‘There is so much poverty in the world, and I’ve only scratched at the surface. I hope you now understand how important it is for the school to remain open and why I need your assistance. As I said earlier, you have the right attributes, if you would be willing to help, of course.’ He sat back in his chair, steepled his fingers and fixed her with a searching look.
Although she was sympathetic to his plight, Sarah still had to sort out who was going to take over her father’s surgery and whether her services would be required. Yet she couldn’t help thinking her problems seemed insignificant by comparison with those of the children at Red Cliffs.
‘I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, Uncle, but I’m still not sure what I could do. I might have assisted Father in the running of his surgery but that’s very different to your work here.’
‘Is it, my dear? It seems to me both concerns involve helping human beings who are in need. Of course, I don’t blame you if you think all this paperwork would be too onerous, although I do remember your father saying your organizational skills were second to none.’ Sarah smiled wryly, knowing her father had been as loath to waste time on futile form-filling as her uncle obviously was.
‘It’s not as if I have any family to call upon,’ he continued.
‘What about your nephew? Surely he’d be happy to come and help?’ she asked, remembering the young lad she’d sometimes met at family gatherings before they removed to Plymouth.
He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Christian? Now that’s a misnomer if ever there was one. Sorry, that was uncharitable. Christian would indeed move here like a shot.’
‘Well then,’ Sarah smiled, pleased to have found a solution.
‘Except Christian doesn’t give a fig about the plight of the children. He likes the good life and would probably throw lavish parties or try to persuade me to sell to one of those developers who are keen to get their hands on this place. Your faith in Christian is misplaced, I’m afraid. I need someone by my side to help with the running of Red Cliffs. Someone I can trust, and I would trust you implicitly, Sarah.’
‘I’m honoured, Uncle, but you forget I’m a female and, now Father’s dead, am expected to take on a more domestic role than the responsible position you are suggesting.’
‘Helping me run this place requires certain qualities, I agree. The person would need to be diligent, caring and conscientious, but who says that person need be a male? Your father, God rest his soul, did intimate in one of his letters that you concur with these lady suffragettes who believe women should have more rights and responsibilities.’
Sarah sighed inwardly, for it had long been a bone of contention that women didn’t have the same opportunities as men, even in this new century. ‘That’s true,’ she conceded.
‘Well then, what better opportunity to put some of those principles into practice? And as for being expected to take on a more domestic role, well, you’re not betrothed, are you?’ Sarah shook her head, ignoring the pang in her chest as she thought of the evening Rodney asked for his ring back. Her uncle took out his pocket watch and frowned ‘You did say in your letter you needed to return home this evening? Are you sure you won’t change your mind?’
‘I have things I must attend to back home,’ she said quickly. Not for anything would she admit that, having paid for her train fare, she didn’t have money for a room for the night, and she hadn’t liked to presume her uncle would offer to accommodate her. Although, after what she’d seen today, her pride now seemed misplaced.
‘Let me show you the classroom before you leave,’ he insisted, getting to his feet and leading her outside through the front porch and down some steps. It was then that Sarah realized the property was set over three stories. ‘We can only access that and the workshops from out here, which is mixed blessings sometimes,’ he grinned then gave a sharp rap on the door. It was opened by a rather harried-looking young man.
‘Good afternoon, Higgins. Forgive the intrusion but I’ve invited my god-daughter Miss Sarah Sullivan to see what we do here.’
‘Miss Sullivan.’ The man, who had a mop of sandy hair and nut-brown eyes, nodded politely, but Sarah could tell he was put out at having his lesson interrupted. As she followed her godfather into the room, she noticed another plaque bearing the school motto prominently displayed on the wall above the blackboard. There was a scraping of stools on the stone flags as the children jumped to their feet and stared curiously at her. She just had time to take in the rows of narrow benches that clearly served as desks, when the teacher clapped his hands and immediately the children turned to face him.
‘Where are your manners, children? Say good afternoon to Dr Lawrence and Miss Sullivan.’
As they intoned their greeting, Sarah smiled, noting they were of varying ages, all with shorn hair and wearing an odd assortment of clothing. Then, as she stood studying the higgle-piggle of children in their ill-fitting garments, the ice that had encased her heart since Rodney left cracked, and something stirred deep inside her. She could see why her uncle was so driven, so passionate, and she too was filled with the overwhelming desire to make a difference to their lives too.
‘Would you like them to recite the alphabet or their tables, perhaps?’ Mr Higgins asked, breaking into her thoughts. She could tell from the glint in his eye, he was mocking, probably regarding her as some superficial goody two-shoes. Well, she’d show him, she vowed.
‘Please don’t let me disrupt your teachings. There will be time enough for me to see what the children know when I return.’ It was only when she heard her uncle’s intake of breath that she realized what she’d said.
Samuel watched as Sarah walked briskly down the driveway and turned left as she made her way back down the hill towards the station. She’d grown into a fine young woman, and he was confident she’d be the right person to take over the running of his beloved school when the time came. Of course, he hadn’t put it quite like that as he hadn’t wanted to scare her away. There’d be time enough to explain everything when she returned. As long as she came back. As if someone had walked over his grave, he shuddered. Supposing she changed her mind once she got home and thought things over? Even though he’d explained it was the administration he needed help with, it was still a huge undertaking, after all. While she had no responsibilities at the moment, there was no denying she was a very attractive woman and would likely marry and have a family of her own in the future.
She had been quick to suggest he call upon his nephew to help, but then she didn’t know Christian had grown up to be a hard-hearted, greedy man who enjoyed the pleasures only money could buy. Samuel knew he would have no compunction about throwing them all out onto the streets, staff included, if he got his hands on the property.
Red Cliffs might be run down but it was in an area that had become desirable. With fashionable people descending in their droves to bathe in the sea or partake of the temperate air, there was now a demand for hotels and other comfortable accommodation. Developers, keen to cash in, were willing to pay good prices for substantial properties that overlooked the bay. A fact Christian knew only too well and wouldn’t hesitate to capitalize on.
Feeling weary beyond words, he drew out his kerchief and wiped his brow. The responsibility for the welfare of these children hung heavy, and he could only hope and pray his god-daughter would keep her promise. In the meantime, he would see his lawyer and get him to draw up
the necessary documents. He hadn’t been joking when he’d told her time was of the essence. He hoped she’d forgive him for not being entirely truthful, but he couldn’t afford to risk his property getting into the wrong hands. His beloved school must stay open; he would do anything in his power to ensure that happened.
Squeals of laughter and excited chatter filled the air as the children bounded out of the classroom like puppies, ready for their afternoon recreation. He smiled, revelling in the happy sounds, but as the noise grew ever louder he knew he needed to repair to more peaceful surroundings. Reaching for his hat and coat, he slowly made his way down the driveway. As he turned right towards the quieter part of town, he noticed for the first time that the leaves on the trees were turning to russet and gold. Shivering as a cool autumnal breeze blew in from the sea, he realized the changing season had crept in without him even noticing. As ever, winter would follow close on its heels.
Returning to his home in St Marychurch, a small village bordering the fashionable resort of Torquay, Christian Lawrence poured a large brandy then threw himself onto the chesterfield. His meeting with the bank manager had not gone well, and he was in a foul mood. Confound that Collings; he’d only asked for a measly few thousand until his luck changed. It wasn’t his fault the cards had gone against him these past few weeks. The man was an imbecile and a fool. Of course, there was still equity in his property to stand as collateral. He took a large slug of his drink, the liquor warming his insides while inflaming his temper at the same time. When his fortune changed and he was rich, Collings could go hang. He’d be sorry when Christian put his money where it was appreciated, he declared to the empty room as he slammed his glass down on the table.
He, Christian Lawrence, was cleverer than that half-wit, two-bit bank manager. Why, he had a thriving business running throughout the whole of the Torbay area, even if he hadn’t been able to explain to that man exactly what it was. He couldn’t exactly voice his opinion that the fancy toffs who descended on the area had more money than sense and that he was happy to help relieve them of it. Money; he needed more of it and fast. Tomorrow he would call upon his ‘agents’ and find out how his enterprise was faring, put the pressure on if necessary. He picked up his glass then cursed when he saw it was empty. Struggling to his feet, he poured himself another generous measure.
He couldn’t wait for the day when he didn’t need to concern himself with finance. When he could re-engage the staff he’d had to let go and live life in the manner to which he was accustomed. One day, he’d claim his rightful inheritance and send those ragged urchins packing. After all, he was an orphan himself, wasn’t he? His harsh laugh echoed around the empty room. Thank heavens he’d been on a shooting holiday when his parents contracted that virulent strain of influenza or he might have died too. The thought made him shudder, and he took another large slug of his drink. Apparently, he’d had an older sister who’d died before he’d been born. Just as well, really, or he’d have had to share even this modest inheritance. He stared around the small but elegantly furnished room and grimaced. This place was far too ordinary for his liking and in completely the wrong location for him. He needed to be living in Torquay itself where everything was happening.
Enough of these depressing thoughts, Christian, he chided himself. You are not yet thirty, and the night is young. Get out there and enjoy yourself, man. He’d call on the lovely Lil, he decided. He could do with some loving and she was the best at giving it. If she was busy there was always the playful Patsy. Grinning at the prospect, he finished his drink and made for the door. It was going to be his lucky night. He could feel it in his body.
3
Determined to keep her promise to her godfather, as soon as Sarah returned home, she set about closing up the house that had been both the family home and her father’s practice. Although it was upsetting going through his things, whenever she felt any qualms that she was doing the right thing, the memory of those children’s earnest little faces spurred her on. Now, a month later, having handed the house keys back to the agent, she was boarding the train for Torquay. Carefully stowing her bag in the rack above her seat, she checked the purse she’d stitched into her pocket was safe, then took a seat in the corner of the carriage. The other seats filled quickly, and she found herself squashed tightly into the corner. She spent the journey staring out of the window at the passing scenery as she pondered her future. Although tired after her exertions, she was bubbling with excitement and felt more alive than she had for ages.
As the train rocked and swayed its way through the Devon countryside, her head buzzed with plans. The plight of the children at Red Cliffs had awoken something deep inside her, and she was determined to help them. If she assisted her uncle with the administrative side of things, he would have more time to devote to the children. Then she remembered the supercilious expression on the schoolmaster’s face and frowned. Obviously he’d thought her some do-gooder and, worse, that being a woman she wouldn’t be up to the job. Well, she intended showing him exactly what she was capable of.
After changing trains at Newton Abbot where the kindly porter hefted her bag into the luggage rack, Sarah settled back in her seat. Although she was eager to take in the vastly differing landscape, tiredness finally overtook her and she felt her eyes growing heavy. She was rudely awoken by a loud hiss of steam and the jerking of the carriage as it shuddered to a halt. Disorientated, she opened her eyes to see the other travellers were gathering up their things ready to disembark. Realizing she’d reached her destination, she jumped to her feet and reached for her bag. Only it wasn’t there. Frantically, she stared around the now-empty carriage, then checked under the seat in case it had fallen whilst she’d been asleep, but to no avail. A feeling of dismay flooded through her, for everything she possessed was in her bag.
‘Hurry up please, miss, I’ve to shut the door now.’
She looked up to see the guard peering at her through the open door.
‘My bag, it’s not here,’ she explained, pointing to the empty rack.
He shook his head. ‘Had a lot of thefts recently, we have, although someone could have taken it by mistake,’ he added, looking dubious. ‘Best report it to lost property over there.’ He pointed to a narrow door next to the ladies’ waiting room. ‘If someone hands it in that’s where it’ll be. Now I’m sorry but I must insist you get off.’
‘Yes of course,’ she muttered, stepping smartly onto the platform.
The clerk in the office sighed as she recounted her story. ‘Giving me nothing but extra work, all these blinking thefts. What’s your details?’ he asked, opening a log book on the counter in front of him. Biting down a retort, Sarah told him her name and where she would be staying. ‘Oh, Red Cliffs Ragged School,’ the man scoffed. ‘Probably be one of them beggars, then.’
‘At least they have good manners,’ she retorted, giving him a level look. How different the staff were here, she thought, remembering how helpful the porter had been at Newton Abbot. Marching briskly from the noisy, steam-filled station and out into the fresh air, she took a steadying breath.
Incensed by the man’s high-handed attitude, it was a few moments before she heard someone calling her name. Looking up, she saw her godfather waiting in a pony and trap. Wearing an old-fashioned topper and long-tailed coat, he looked like a figure from another era.
‘Looks like you’ve lost a shilling and found a farthing,’ he quipped. Then, seeing she had nothing with her, his smile turned to a look of consternation. ‘No luggage? You haven’t changed your mind about joining us, have you?’
She shook her head. ‘No, of course not. I fell asleep on the journey, and when I woke my bag was gone,’ she explained, climbing up beside him.
‘That’s a terrible thing to have happened, my dear. You did report it?’ he asked.
‘Yes, but they don’t hold out much hope of it being found,’ she sighed, thinking it prudent to keep the comment about the school’s pupils to herself. ‘All I have is what
I’m wearing and my purse,’ she replied, patting her pocket. ‘Can you imagine that?’
Her godfather gave a rueful smile. ‘Regrettably, I can, Sarah. Nearly all the children who come to Red Cliffs don’t even have that luxury. Most arrive in rags, hence the term Ragged School, and, well, I can’t remember one ever wearing shoes,’ he said, looking pointedly down at her leather boots. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Daws will be able to help in the clothing department but I’m sorry you’ve had such a terrible introduction to Torquay, my dear.’ He looked so forlorn, Sarah forced a smile.
‘Luckily I’m wearing mother’s cross, but father’s bible was in my bag along with the only picture I had of them.’ She swallowed down the lump that had risen in her throat.
‘They’ll always be in your heart, my dear,’ he said, leaning over and patting her hand. She nodded, hardly daring to confess that her ritual of kissing them goodnight each evening had brought them closer.
He joined the line of traffic waiting to turn onto the main highway, and then the sweep of Tor Bay was spread out like a shimmering carpet before them. The bay was filled with boats going about their business while further out larger ships lay at anchor. As she smelt the tang of salt on the breeze, her spirits lifted.
‘How are you, Uncle?’
‘Can’t grumble. Probably got as much vigour as this old mare here,’ he laughed at the pony’s slow gait. ‘Now, let’s breathe in this restorative ozone.’ As Sarah inhaled deeply, her uncle smiled. ‘That’s better. The colour’s already returning to your cheeks.’
‘Goodness, I can’t believe how busy it is,’ she cried, staring at the well-attired people promenading along the sea front and the long queues for the paddle steamers, which were waiting to take others on a day’s excursion. Samuel smiled at her expression.