by Linda Finlay
Saturday was Samuel’s favourite day of the week, and with Sarah settling in and getting to grips with the paperwork, he could enjoy his evening with a free conscience. He was grateful for her help, for his mind was so overloaded with problems he’d become increasingly forgetful. Why, he’d clean forgotten he’d emptied his cash box so that Mrs Daws could purchase much-needed supplies. Thank heavens Sarah had declined his offer to help with the purchase of a new dress. And thank heavens for the good ladies of the church who provided Red Cliffs with donations of used clothing.
Letting himself out into the cool of the evening, he was surprised how misty it was. Obviously a sea fret blowing in, he thought, sniffing the air. He couldn’t smell anything, though. Oh well, the wind must be coming from the other direction, he decided, as he felt his way down the path with his cane.
‘Good evening, Doctor,’ a voice called. Samuel closed the gates, then frowned at the hazy figure crossing the road. ‘It’s me, Jack Wise. We met the other day at the vicarage.’
‘Ah yes, the new verger. Sorry, I didn’t see you in this murky weather. How are you settling into your new position?’
There was a pause as the man gave him a funny look, before remembering his manners. ‘Very well, thank you. Everyone has been most welcoming. How is the little girl settling in?’
‘She seems fine, although she’s still not speaking.’ He shrugged. ‘Shock can do that sometimes.’
‘A terrible business. I was on my way to tell you that the police have found out about her family. The father’s a stoker on the boats and away at sea at the moment. They had digs in a house along from the draper’s, but apparently their landlady realized she could get more money by renting it out to holiday folk. No sooner had the man returned to sea than she gave the deceased notice to quit.’
‘Despite her condition?’ Samuel asked, incredulous that anyone should treat an expectant woman with a young child in such a manner.
The verger nodded sadly. ‘Money is the root, as they say.’
‘Tell me about it.’ Samuel gave a heart-felt sigh. ‘Well, the little girl is welcome to remain with us until the father returns.’
‘It is good work you do at Red Cliffs, Doctor. The vicar was saying so earlier. However, the police have also located the deceased’s parents and told them the sad news. They are presently camped out behind the old sheds at Torre, and the grandmother says she will pay a visit when she can get into town.’
‘I will let Mrs Daws and my god-daughter, Sarah, know in case I’m not about. You will meet them both tomorrow when we attend church. The vicar usually joins us for a bite to eat after morning service, and you would be most welcome as well.’
‘Thank you, Doctor, that is most kind of you. I shall look forward to seeing you all tomorrow then. I’ll bid you good evening, sir, but mind how you go.’
The doctor chuckled. ‘It will take more than a bit of sea fret to worry me, young Jack.’ As he tapped his way along the road, he was too busy with his thoughts to notice the frown on the verger’s face.
It had been an eventful week; truth to tell, the plight of the little silent girl had been playing on Samuel’s mind. However, it seemed there was a grandmother who might take care of her, so that was a relief, as was the way Sarah had settled in to Red Cliffs. He’d been worried at first that she wouldn’t stay, but as the week had worn on, she’d begun attacking the paperwork with a determined efficiency that amazed him. She’d been shocked at how behind he’d got, even reprimanding him about his tardiness when she’d discovered some important forms that should have been completed and returned some weeks earlier. Remembering the formidable look on her face, he chuckled. She was as refreshing as a summer breeze.
Then, remembering he had yet to explain the extent to which he required her help, he sobered. He really should have told her the truth from the outset, but he hadn’t dared risk scaring her away. He’d tell her first thing on Monday, he decided. Decision made, he quickened his step and continued on his way to meet his dearest friend.
*
Sunday dawned and everyone was up early to help prepare the midday meal before they left for church. Sarah couldn’t believe how industrious the children were as they chopped the vegetables for the soup that would be offered to anyone in need of a hot meal. Then, after their breakfast, they cleared away and helped set up the trestles in the dining room. Sarah was carefully setting out a pile of spoons and dishes when Pip appeared at her side.
‘Yer can’t put the best silver out, miss, it’ll get nicked,’ he said, taking the cutlery and hiding it in a drawer in the dresser. ‘We hands out one spoon to each person when they gets their soup, then collect it back when they’ve finished. Otherwise they’ll pocket ’em and flog ’em.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Sarah said. ‘Thank you for telling me. I have so much to learn.’
‘Yer telling me. Reckons you must be rich where you come from.’
Thinking of the few coins she had in her purse, Sarah shook her head. ‘Believe you me, I’m not.’
‘Well, yer speaks posh an’ I likes it,’ he grinned.
‘Come along, Pip, I need more potatoes for the pot, and I haven’t got all day,’ Mrs Daws called.
‘Gawd, I gets no peace in this place. ’Tis slave labour good and proper,’ Pip protested as he limped back to the kitchen. Sarah smiled. Cheeky he might be, but he was clearly fond of the housekeeper and couldn’t do enough to help her. Following after him, she began slicing the loaves she’d helped to make the day before. It had been an enjoyable morning, for she’d quite forgotten how soothing kneading dough could be.
‘Steady on, they be right old doorsteps you’re cutting, and that bread’s got to feed the five thousand,’ Mrs Daws pointed out. ‘Well, it seems like it sometimes,’ she grinned to soften her words.
Finally, the chores were done and the children sent to make themselves presentable. The previous night had been bath night, the time they received their set of laundered clothes for the week. Mrs Laver, a diligent woman, saw it as part of her duties to help with the bathing, before placing any stained clothing to soak in the remaining hot water from the copper, ready for the wash on Monday. Sarah had been surprised to see her using the urine collected from the chamber pots for this, until the woman had explained it was ‘nature’s clean-all’, as she’d put it.
It was only when they returned and were lining up to be inspected by the master that Sarah realized she had yet to make herself presentable. Running upstairs, she rinsed her face and hands, then changed into the blue serge she’d put aside to air, ready for today. When Mrs Laver had handed her back her own dress, freshly laundered and pressed, she’d been embarrassed at how shabby it looked in comparison and had worn it for work instead. Taking out her purse, she thought about leaving it under her pillow then realized she had no idea who came into the room when she wasn’t there. Deciding it would be foolhardy to put temptation in a child’s way, she carefully placed it in the pocket of her dress.
By the time she made her way downstairs again, the children were filing, crocodile-fashion, down the path behind their master, and she was pleased to see Maisie and Monday, as she now thought of the little girl, holding hands at the back.
‘Another sea fret, Mrs Daws,’ she heard the doctor say as he closed the door behind them. Sarah looked at the clear blue sky and was about to comment but the housekeeper shook her head. ‘Good job it’s only a few yards to the church then, Doctor,’ she said. How strange, Sarah thought, but soon forgot about it as the group walked along the road to the church.
The verger, a pleasant-looking man, smiled as he handed her a hymnal. She nodded then followed the others to the pews that were obviously allocated to the school. To her surprise, the children sang heartily, if not exactly in tune. The sun streamed in through the beautiful stained-glass windows, casting a wonderful rainbow glow on the flowers arranged on the altar. For the first time in a long while, Sarah felt a sense of peace steal over her, and she realized she was gradua
lly coming to terms with the death of her father.
‘If only you knew what a terrible state his paperwork is in, Father,’ she whispered to him quietly.
After the service, the vicar was waiting to greet his parishioners as they left the building.
‘Miss Sullivan, welcome to St Nicholas’,’ he beamed. ‘Most appropriate, is it not, he being the patron saint of children? I understand you have come to assist our dear doctor in the running of his school. That is most commendable, my dear.’
‘Well, I’m only helping him with the paperwork …’ she began, but he’d already turned away and was speaking to the person behind. The verger, who was standing nearby, gave her another warm smile, and she found herself grinning back.
Hurrying to catch up with the children who were wending their way down the steep path, she passed a small group of women huddled together. They were soberly dressed, and by the way their glances kept darting in Sarah’s direction, it was clear she was their topic of conversation.
‘Good morning, ladies,’ she called brightly. To say their smiles were forced was an understatement.
‘Don’t worry about them,’ Higgins whispered, appearing at her side. ‘All they need is a cauldron and Mrs Daws wouldn’t have to worry about providing luncheon.’
So the master has a sense of humour, Sarah thought, grinning, but he was already shepherding the children along the narrow road.
Back at the school a crowd of unkempt urchins were waiting impatiently at the gates.
‘Shall I let them in, Master Higgins?’ Pip asked.
‘Best let our tribe in first, I think. Right, you little lot,’ he said, turning to the pupils in his charge. ‘You know what to do.’ To Sarah’s surprise, the schoolchildren nodded and, hurrying through the gates, made their way around to the back of the building. ‘Right, Pip, now you can let the others in,’ Higgins instructed. Pip swung the gates wide open and was almost knocked off his feet as the crowd surged forward.
‘Hey, easy does it,’ Pip called, but the hungry children were so intent on getting to the food they took no notice. ‘Blinkin’ riff-raff,’ he muttered, pulling the metal gates closed behind them.
9
By the time Sarah managed to make her way through the crowd of hungry waifs, the schoolchildren had already donned an assortment of aprons over their clean clothes and were handing out hunks of bread. Even Maisie and Monday were helping as they stood one on either side of Mrs Daws, passing her the bowls so she could ladle soup from the enormous pot. Then Pip appeared and, true to his word, handed each child a spoon before directing them to their place at the trestle tables.
‘Wait, you little heathens,’ Master Higgins’ voice boomed over the noise of chairs scraping against the floor. ‘This is Sunday, and even if you only do it today, you will thank the Lord for your food before you eat it.’
‘’Urry up then, guv, ’cos me stomach thinks me throat’s been cut,’ a voice muttered.
Higgins looked over at Sarah and raised his eyebrows. ‘Lord preserve us,’ he muttered, and the children fell on their food, eating as if their life depended upon it.
‘I think they thought that was the grace, Master Higgins,’ Mrs Daws said, trying not to smile.
‘Heathens. I’ve a good mind to make them stand up and give thanks properly.’
‘You’ll have more chance of stopping one of them steam train thingys,’ the housekeeper replied, staring at the children, who were shovelling food into their mouths as fast as they could.
‘Discipline, that’s what they need,’ the master grunted.
‘But they’re starving,’ Sarah protested. ‘Discipline’s not everything. Surely you must make allowances for …’ she began, but he was striding over to a young lad who was stuffing his pockets with bread.
‘Now, see here …’ Higgins began, putting out a hand to stop him. But the boy was too quick and, dodging between the master’s legs, made a dash for the door, bumping into Sarah as he passed.
‘Oh,’ Sarah cried, putting out her hand to steady herself.
‘Stop him, miss,’ Pip called, trying to hurry after him.
‘He took yer purse, miss,’ Black cried. As the master gave chase, Sarah felt her pocket. Sure enough, it was empty.
‘But how did he know it was in there?’ she gasped.
‘Easy peasey, miss. Your frock was lopsided where the purse weighed it down. Me old man taught me to look for that when we was doing the markets.’
‘The markets?’ she murmured.
‘Yeah, it was good pickings, ’til he got picked up himself,’ he shrugged.
‘Picked up?’
‘Taken to the nick and banged up. ’Twasn’t the first time, see, nor the second, come to that. Anyhow, he’s inside. ’Course, it didn’t help he had a knife at the time.’
‘What about your mother?’ Sarah asked, suppressing a shudder.
‘Did a runner with the coal man. Said he might be dirty but at least he had a regular pay packet.’
‘You mean she left you behind?’
He nodded. ‘Yeah, said I wasn’t part of the deal. Didn’t bother me none ’cos she had a vile old temper, ’specially after a night on the sauce.’
‘Sauce?’ Sarah asked.
‘The gin. Blimey, miss, don’t you know nothing? I could have managed by meself, but it was winter and I had nowhere to shelter. The doctor found me picking scraps out of his swill bucket and here I am,’ he grinned.
‘Got clean away, the toerag,’ Higgins gasped, hurrying back into the room. ‘Reckon he shot out of the back gate ’cos the front’s still shut. What was it you were saying about discipline not being necessary, Miss Sullivan?’
‘Leave the girl alone, Master Higgins, she’s had a nasty shock,’ Mrs Daws said, coming over and patting Sarah’s shoulder. ‘You go and have a sit-down in the kitchen while we see to this little lot, dearie.’
‘No, I’m fine, really,’ Sarah insisted. ‘But what a way to behave when you gave him food.’
‘It’s the way of things, especially with the likes of him,’ Higgins muttered, turning back to the waifs, who were watching wide-eyed. ‘Right, the show’s over, so eat up before it gets cleared away.’ There was a clinking of spoons against bowls as the children hastily finished their meal.
‘I’ll see if I can find out anything about that little tyke,’ Higgins muttered, going over to one of the tables.
‘Don’t reckon they’ll tell him nuffink,’ Pip said. ‘He don’t speak their language.’
‘Sit down,’ Higgins barked as one little girl got up to leave. ‘Nobody leaves before their spoon and bowl has been handed in.’
‘See what I mean? I’d best go and help. Come on, Black, see if you can touch them kids up for some info, like who he was, where he’s hangin’ out.’
‘Righto,’ Black nodded, puffing out his chest importantly.
As Pip and April duly went around collecting everything up, Higgins clapped his hands loudly.
‘Right, everyone, time to go, and don’t forget to thank the good doctor for your meal on your way out,’ he added as the doctor came into the room, accompanied by the vicar and verger. There was a scrabble for the door, cries of ‘ta’ and ‘thanks’, and then the room descended into silence.
‘Right, pupils of Red Cliffs, that was a job well done. After you’ve washed the dishes and cleared away, you may be seated for your own meals.’ As the children went about their tasks, the master came over, shaking his head. ‘That rabble makes this lot look like saints, doesn’t it?’
‘At least it proves we must be doing some good here at Red Cliffs. Well done, Higgins. I don’t know how we’d manage without you,’ the doctor said warmly.
‘Just takes a bit of discipline,’ he replied, darting a look at Sarah as she came over.
‘I wish we could do more than just give them a meal and send them packing,’ she said. ‘Some of them were absolutely filthy.’ Higgins gave a harsh laugh.
‘If you think you’ll get tha
t little lot in the wash tub, you can think again,’ Mrs Daws laughed, as she came over to join them. ‘Believe you me, they’ve just had one meal more than they usually get on a Sunday. Anyway, Sarah, have you told the doctor about your purse?’
‘I heard, my dear. What a terrible thing to have happened,’ he said, turning to his god-daughter. ‘You weren’t hurt, I take it?’
‘No, only a bit shaken. It does mean I’m left with nothing but the clothes I was given when I arrived.’
‘Just like the rest of us then, miss,’ Pip said philosophically as he passed by with his hands full of the precious spoons. ‘Better hide the family silver in case you have a notion to sell it,’ he quipped, then dodged as Higgins went to cuff his ear.
‘You’re not my teacher now,’ he called over his shoulder.
‘Praise be,’ the master muttered, raising his brows.
The doctor turned to the men by his side. ‘Forgive me, I’m forgetting my manners. Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to my god-daughter, Sarah. She has taken pity and come to help a poor, forgetful old man. Sarah, my dear, this is our esteemed vicar and his new verger, Jack Wise.’
‘We saw you in church earlier, of course,’ the vicar replied. ‘I hope you will be happy here in Torquay, although I understand you have had rather a rude introduction to the area.’
‘You must let us know if St Nicholas’ can be of assistance in any way,’ Jack said.
‘Thank you,’ Sarah replied.
‘Jack, this is Harry Higgins, who you will have gathered is our esteemed schoolmaster. And last but definitely not least, Mrs Daws, our indomitable housekeeper without whom this place would not function.’
‘It is a pleasure to meet you all,’ Jack said. ‘I’ve heard so much about your delicious stews, Mrs Daws, and cannot wait to sample one.’
‘And so you shall, young Jack. I’ll go and dish up.’ She gave the verger a warm smile, and Sarah could see he’d made an ally.
The next morning, Sarah entered her godfather’s study eager to attack another pile of paperwork.