Monday's Child

by Linda Finlay

  Catching sight of herself in the fly-spotted mirror above the washstand, her eyes widened in horror. The salt-laden air had caused her naturally curly hair to frizz under her bonnet, and it looked like an unruly bird’s nest. Her cheeks were smudged with dirt as was her lace collar. Staring down at her dress, she saw it was rumpled and her black boots were caked with dried sand. The ravages of the morning had clearly left their mark. Goodness knows what her godfather must think of her.

  Quickly, she rinsed her face and hands then changed out of her soiled dress and into the blue serge. It was still in good condition but very full on the hips, obviously having previously been worn by a lady of more rounded proportions. Sarah sighed. With her angular figure she was used to adapting patterns so that the garments she made fitted well, but her sewing things had been in her bag which had been stolen. Which reminded her, there was also the matter of her money bag she’d so prudently sewn into her pocket. She spotted a comb on the washstand, snatched it up and, using the tail end, began unpicking the stitches. Realizing that those coins were all she now possessed, she carefully tucked the pouch inside the placket of the blue dress’s skirt.

  Samuel grimaced at the piles of paperwork littering his desk then eased his aching limbs into the chair. To his mind, the events of the morning had once again proved there were more important factors to running the school than filling in official forms. That poor woman on the beach must have suffered terribly in her final hours, and who knew what that little girl had witnessed? Just how much she’d been affected remained to be seen, but clearly the shock had taken her tongue. He shook his head. And how had it affected Sarah? God knows he needed help but had he done the right thing in asking her to give up the life she knew to move in here? Yet what was the alternative? He couldn’t, no, wouldn’t let his life’s work go to rack and ruin, or worse.

  Seized by a fit of coughing, he reached for his bottle of pills. So much to do, so little time, he fretted, closing his eyes as exhaustion washed over him.

  The cheerful cries of children woke him. Struggling to his feet, he made his way over to the window then smiled as he saw them spilling out onto the grass, happy to be free from the confines of the schoolroom. It never ceased to amaze him how soon they settled into the regime at Red Cliffs. Away from the harsh, cruel conditions most had been born into, they thrived on the food they received and were eager to learn. Higgins, a good master, forever pressed upon them the importance of grasping the opportunity they’d been given to forge new lives for themselves. Of course, for some the past never truly went away, and when darkness cloaked the dormitories, the terrors returned to haunt them.

  ‘Here we are, Doctor,’ the housekeeper said, coming into the room with a tray of tea things. ‘I’ve put a cup out for Miss Sullivan too. I left her settling in upstairs and told her to join you when she’s ready.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Daws. Do you think I’ve done the right thing?’ he asked sinking back into his chair.

  ‘Getting her to help, you mean?’ she replied, as ever picking up on his thoughts. ‘Yes, I do, actually. From what you said, she’s not had an easy time, what with losing her father after nursing him through his illness. A new start will be good for her and, from what I’ve seen, she seems a capable young woman. Besides, you need the help. You’re looking more tired by the day, if you don’t mind me saying. Now, it’s been a day and a half, so get this tea down you.’ Samuel grinned wryly as he accepted the cup she proffered.

  An almighty crash made them both jump, sending the dark liquid spilling into the saucer.

  ‘What the …’ he began as something landed with a thud on the floor in front of them.

  ‘Here’s the problem,’ Mrs Daws said, holding up a sock stuffed with sawdust and pieces of rubble. ‘Those scallywags up to no good by the look of it. And just look at the mess on my clean floor.’ They were both staring at the fragments of broken window when Higgins appeared, dragging two red-faced boys by their ears.

  ‘Apologize at once, you scallys,’ he ordered.

  ‘We didn’t mean to, sir,’ the elder boy mumbled, squirming beneath the teacher’s hold. ‘Still, at least it’s only the little one,’ he ventured hopefully.

  ‘Not good enough, Brown. What have you to say for your preposterous behaviour, Black?’ he roared down at the other lad.

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ he muttered, staring at the broken window in dismay.

  ‘You will both clean up the mess then spend the evening learning how to replace a window pane. The money for the materials will come from the wages you get delivering produce. It’ll be an expensive business so you’ll have to hope the good doctor will be gracious enough to accept payment by instalments. It will be the other side of Christmas before you see any money.’

  The boys glanced at each other in horror. ‘But it’s only October,’ Brown wailed.

  ‘We’re really sorry, sir,’ Black declared to Samuel. ‘It won’t happen again, I swear.’

  ‘Too right it won’t,’ Higgins muttered. ‘And if I ever hear you swearing it’ll be the tawse for you, hear me, boys?’ They nodded and then stood there looking down at their feet.

  ‘Well, no real harm done,’ Samuel said.

  ‘Except for disobedience and wilful damage,’ Higgins stated, turning the full force of his glare on the culprits. ‘Hungry, are you?’ Two faces stared hopefully as they nodded. ‘Well, what a shame ’cos it will take ’til supper time and beyond to clear up and repair. Perhaps a hungry belly will remind you to behave in future.’

  ‘Surely it was an accident,’ Sarah said, coming into the room and witnessing the scene.

  ‘They have to learn that actions, accidental or not, have consequences.’

  ‘They are only young boys and …’ she began.

  ‘Just what we need, a blinking do-gooder,’ Higgins muttered, the glint Sarah remembered from before sparking in his eyes. ‘I am the schoolmaster around here and know the importance of discipline. If you’ll excuse us, Doctor, I’ll see these reprobates clear the mess and make good the damage. They will of course be severely reprimanded,’ he added, glaring at Sarah before marching the boys from the room.

  ‘I’d best get back to the kitchen and see to the supper, Doctor,’ Mrs Daws said, avoiding Sarah’s eyes as she gathered up the tea things.

  ‘It seems I made a mess of that …’ Sarah began.

  Her godfather regarded her silently for a few moments. ‘Higgins is a very capable master, and the running of the schoolroom his domain. He has been with us six years or more, and we are lucky to have him. With his qualifications and experience he could easily go elsewhere and be paid a lot more too,’ Samuel pointed out.

  ‘Oh,’ she murmured. ‘I didn’t realize.’

  Seeing her crestfallen look, her godfather smiled. ‘His ways might seem harsh but, believe it or not, he does have the interests of the children at heart. It will serve no purpose to Red Cliffs if you are at odds with each other, my dear.’

  Although he spoke gently, Sarah could see he meant what he said.

  ‘I understand, Uncle, and don’t wish to fall out with him,’ she replied.

  Yet surely what those children really needed was love and tolerance?

  5

  Ignoring the jeers of the other children, Higgins frog-marched the two, now-subdued boys down to the workroom. He was fuming. How dare that woman have the audacity to tell him how he should treat his pupils? He’d been the master here for over six years and ran a good schoolroom. He was damned if he’d put up with some goody two-shoes telling him how to do his job, doctor’s god-daughter or not. She’d probably never done a day’s work in her life. Why, she’d even found time to change her dress in the short time she’d been here, for the one she’d been wearing when he saw her climbing out of the cart had surely been brightly patterned.

  ‘Take a broom and pan up to the doctor’s study right now and get that mess cleared up,’ he barked at the boys. ‘I’ll follow when I’ve collected the necessary things.’ He
watched as they scuttled away then set about gathering together the materials needed to effect a repair to the broken window. It had been a long day, and he was hungry, but he knew the doctor would be working at his desk for a while longer, and the wind was already freshening. The man’s cough had been worrying him for some time, and although he never complained, Harry could see it was getting him down.

  By the time he got back to the doctor’s study, the shards of glass had been brushed up, and the man was talking to the boys.

  ‘So now you understand why you must be careful when you’re having a kick around?’

  ‘Yes, sir, and we’re really sorry, sir,’ they chorused.

  ‘Well, here’s Master Higgins. He’s probably had enough of you already today so I suggest you apologize to him for making him work late.’

  ‘We’re really sorry, sir,’ they chorused.

  ‘We’ve checked there’s no splinters of glass on the floor that could cut anybody’s feet,’ Brown added.

  Higgins looked at the boys and shook his head. ‘So I should hope. I’m sorry, Doctor, but I’m going to have to board up the window – unless we have the funds to purchase glass.’

  ‘Boarding it will have to be, I’m afraid. We’ll just have to hope the neighbours don’t see and complain.’ The doctor raised his bushy brows. ‘Right, boys, I want you to help your master,’ he instructed them. ‘Use this as an opportunity to learn another skill. I’ll leave you to it, Higgins,’ he said, snatching up his hat and making for the door. ‘Perhaps you would be good enough to let Mrs Daws know I am going for a walk and won’t be in for supper. Good evening.’

  ‘Yes, of course, Doctor. Good evening. Where are your manners, boys?’

  ‘Good night, sir,’ they chorused.

  Back in her kitchen, Mrs Daws tutted at the dirty dishes still on the table. Calling to Maisie, she started collecting them then stood the girl up on her pail and told her to begin washing up. Maisie would take much longer than April but it couldn’t be helped, for evidently she was still upstairs comforting the new girl.

  With her thoughts in a whirl, she got out the remaining bread, sighed at how quickly it had diminished, then began slicing as thinly as she could to eke it out. To think when she’d woken that morning she’d thought things would become easier from today. Now, not only had they a new pupil to settle in, but the atmosphere between Miss Sullivan and the master was as icy as the coming frost. It was obvious they had different ideas, and she wasn’t sure it boded well for the future of the school. No wonder the poor doctor looked more subdued than usual.

  ‘What can I do to help?’

  She started as Sarah appeared at her side. ‘You fair made me jump, creeping in like that. Not helping the doctor with his paperwork then?’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘He said he had a headache and suggested I start tomorrow. Truth to tell, Mrs Daws, I think he’s cross with me.’

  ‘The doctor has a lot on his plate at the moment, and with him not being a well man, he can do without any upsets,’ she replied, staring at Sarah pointedly.

  ‘I haven’t caused no upsets. I been a dry girl for ages now, haven’t I, Mrs Daws?’ a tiny voice piped up.

  ‘Well, for all of two days you have, Maisie,’ the housekeeper laughed and the tension was broken.

  ‘Good girl,’ Sarah said, trying not to smile at the froth of soap suds that covered more of her than the dishes. ‘Look, why don’t I wash those while you dry them.’

  ‘That would be a help. The children will be in for their supper before we know it,’ Mrs Daws agreed. ‘Now you know why I suggested you’d need that apron. Maisie, whilst you’re helping Miss Sullivan, why don’t you tell her our morning routine? We find it helps them to settle in if they know what to expect,’ she explained to Sarah, pointing to the wall where a timetable, printed in copperplate writing, was displayed.

  ‘We gets up at 6 a.m., dress, make our bed, then empty our pots in the yard. Wash face and hands at pump. Then we do morning exercise and have breakfast at 7 a.m.,’ Maisie recited proudly.

  ‘Well done, Maisie, and can you remember what comes after breakfast?’

  ‘We either help in the garden or kitchen before school starts at 8.30 a.m. Play at 10.30 then lessons again until lunch at 12.30.’ She stopped as April came into the room holding the new girl’s hand. Two periwinkle eyes regarded Sarah, and she smiled back.

  ‘All right, dearies?’ Mrs Daws asked.

  April nodded then frowned at the clean dishes waiting to be taken through to the dining room. ‘Shall we set the table, Mrs Daws?’

  ‘Yes please, I’m all behind today. Any luck with the little ’un’s name?’ she asked, lowering her voice.

  April sighed. ‘We’ve looked everywhere but can’t find that voice of yours, can we?’ The girl shook her head then stared down at the floor. ‘Never mind, perhaps it’s in the dining room. You carry these spoons through, and we’ll have a look.’ Sarah watched as the little girl followed April through to the next room.

  ‘Poor little mite,’ she murmured.

  ‘She’d have been a site worse off if the good doctor hadn’t found her,’ the housekeeper said briskly. ‘Practical help is worth more than a peck of words, I find.’

  ‘But we don’t know anything about her?’ Sarah frowned.

  ‘The good doctor will make enquiries, and even if he doesn’t find out anything, does it really matter? She’s a little girl in need of care and attention, and that’s what she’ll get here.’

  ‘You’re right of course, Mrs Daws,’ Sarah agreed, feeling chastened. Obviously love came before mere detail at Red Cliffs, and while she heartily endorsed their principle, it made Sarah realize how different life here was. ‘Now, what can I do to help?’ she asked, anxious to make herself useful.

  ‘The farmer’s wife dropped off some cheese she said was left over, bless her. If you’d like to get it from the pantry over there then grate it, the children can have it with their bread.’

  To Sarah’s surprise, the shelves in the pantry were quite bare considering the number of pupils and staff at the school, and when she returned with the cheese, she couldn’t help commenting.

  ‘I would have thought you’d have more stores in. Do you have regular deliveries?’

  Mrs Daws shrugged. ‘Depends what funds are available. We’re very good at supplying our own vegetables and make our bread two or three times a week. Pip’s been monitoring the Bramley tree and says the apples are almost ready for picking, so that’ll be a treat.’

  ‘That’s good but surely the community help out?’ Sarah persisted, thinking of the way her father’s patients had rallied around with stews and casseroles when he’d been poorly.

  ‘The church does, of course, and some of the more sympathetic traders, but we have also to remember the objective is to teach the children to be as independent as possible. In return for the cheese the master will take some of the children up to the farm to help out with the chores. Poor farmer Jim can’t do much since his horse rolled over on him when he was ploughing. Anyhow, the children will like as not come back with a basket of eggs, which will have to be returned when more chores will be done. And so it goes on. It’s a good way to teach the children that they don’t get anything for nothing,’ Mrs Daws pointed out.

  ‘It’s a sound ethos,’ Sarah replied, vigorously rubbing the cheese down the grater.

  ‘Can you use the finest blade on that?’ Mrs Daws asked. ‘Packs it out more. Then if you can make up the sandwiches, I’ll see to the tea.’ Turning to the hob, she confided, ‘Trouble is there are those round here who think the school lowers the tone of the neighbourhood and would like it moved to the back of Torquay behind Torre station, if not closed down altogether.’

  ‘Good heavens, why?’

  ‘Ragged urchins are not a palatable sight to some, Miss Sullivan. Torre station’s as far into the town as the railway’s allowed to bring their freight, so I guess the powers that be think it would be more a more suitable place fo
r the likes of us.’

  ‘But Red Cliffs is by the sea. It’s the perfect place for these poor children to take the air.’

  ‘Ah, but this part of Torquay’s becoming ever more fashionable, and these large houses have increased in value. They are being snapped up by people wanting holiday homes, and with the new sewerage having been connected, they are even having indoor bathrooms installed.’

  ‘That would be nice for the children,’ Sarah mused.

  ‘But too costly for the doctor to afford, which means he can’t keep up with those who are set on improving the area. If you take a look around, you’ll see some of the large places are being turned into lucrative hotels, and this area is fast becoming the desirable part of town. This house might be sizeable but as the poor doctor spends all his money on the children rather than updating the building, its shabbiness has become a bone of contention.’

  ‘Surely that’s a rather shallow attitude?’ Sarah asked, shocked by the venom in the woman’s voice.

  ‘It is, but then there are some very shallow people around. As ever, it is those that have the most who shout loudest so get heard.’

  ‘But doesn’t the doctor voice his opinion? Surely if he let it be known …’ Her voice trailed off as she saw the schoolmaster glaring at her from the doorway.

  ‘Mrs Daws, I just came in to tell you the doctor won’t be in for supper. So, Miss Sullivan,’ he snapped, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face Sarah. ‘Not content with criticizing my discipline of the children, it appears you now see fit to question the way the doctor does things.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant …’ Sarah began, but he was in full flood.

  ‘Having only arrived here this morning, you cannot possibly know enough about the school to have a considered opinion on its running. The doctor is a busy man. He is also very principled and has neither the time nor inclination to explain his affairs to the busybodies around here. Nor should he be required to. Good evening.’ He went out, slamming the door behind him so that the cups on the dresser rattled.