by Linda Finlay
‘Good morning, my dear, did you sleep well?’
‘Yes, thank you. I must admit, I find it quite comforting when Monday climbs into bed beside me.’
‘Ah, yes, the little girl. In all the kerfuffle yesterday, I quite forgot to mention that the police have established where her family are.’
‘Oh,’ Sarah said, her heart plummeting. ‘I mean, that’s good, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is,’ Samuel agreed, giving her a knowing look. ‘However, the father is away at sea, and her grandmother is a Romany camping somewhere behind Torre station. Apparently the woman intends calling when she can get into the town.’
‘How caring of her to rush over to see her grandchild,’ Sarah couldn’t help remarking. Before her godfather could reply, there was a knock at the door.
‘The good ladies of the church wonder if you could spare them a moment, Doctor?’ Mrs Daws said. ‘I told them you were busy but they said it was important. Apparently something’s been on their mind since yesterday.’
The doctor sighed. ‘Sounds like trouble,’ he groaned. ‘All right, Mrs Daws, send them in, but please refrain from offering refreshment, or they’ll be here all morning and we’ll never get this lot sorted,’ he said, gesturing to the pile of forms on the desk before him.
A few moments later, the door opened again, and the three ladies Sarah had seen huddled together outside the church stepped into the room.
‘You know how we like our tea, Mrs Daws,’ the one with the pointed nose sniffed.
‘Oh, I know all right, but I’m afraid we’re fresh out of lemons,’ the housekeeper replied, smiling sweetly, as she closed the door behind her.
‘Well, ladies, allow me to introduce my god-daughter, Sarah. She has kindly consented to help me with all this,’ he said, pointing to the pile of paperwork. ‘Sarah, this is Miss Snooper, Miss Prior and Miss Meddle, sorry, I mean Middle, of course.’
Sarah bit her tongue to stop herself from laughing out loud at their names. How appropriate, she thought, studying their features. Miss Snooper was the lady with the large hooked nose, Miss Prior had beady eyes that regarded Sarah as if she was some form of low life, whilst Miss Middle was so large she didn’t have any waist at all. She gave a polite smile which was met with a look of disdain.
‘Now, you know I’m not one to pry, Doctor.’ That would be Miss Prior, Sarah thought, forcing her lips not to twitch. ‘However, you must agree that we ladies of the church carry out our good works with the best of intentions. We give generously of our time and …’
‘Indeed you do, ladies,’ Samuel agreed, cutting her dialogue short. ‘So how can I be of service?’
‘As you well know, Doctor, we spend much of our time collecting clothes and other materials the ladies of our parish donate.’ She paused and Sarah could see her uncle was struggling not to show his impatience.
‘Mrs Daws showed me all the things you have generously given to Red Cliffs,’ Sarah said quickly.
‘I see, so you admit you have had access to our munificent donations,’ Miss Snooper proclaimed grandly as if she was a magistrate addressing the court. The women exchanged complicit looks.
‘Some of our donations come from distinguished people, such as myself,’ Miss Middle said.
‘And very grateful we are for your generosity,’ the doctor said. ‘Now, if there’s nothing else …’
‘Oh, but there is, Dr Lawrence,’ Miss Snooper sniffed.
‘I thought there might be,’ he muttered.
‘At first we weren’t sure if we should mention it, but as stalwarts of St Nicholas’, we feel it is our duty to warn you that this woman is taking advantage of your kind-hearted nature,’ Miss Prior said, narrowing her beady eyes at Sarah.
‘What? How?’ Sarah gasped.
‘By stealing my dress,’ Miss Middle cried.
‘But I’ve never stolen anything in my life,’ Sarah spluttered.
Ignoring her protest, Miss Middle continued. ‘That dress you are wearing is of the highest quality. Why, my dressmaker couldn’t believe she was permitted to work with material so fine.’
‘Miss Middle, I must stop you there,’ Samuel said, getting awkwardly to his feet. ‘My god-daughter is no more a thief than I.’
‘But that is my dress she is wearing. I recognized it yesterday.’
‘I believe you said you donated it to the church,’ Samuel protested.
‘I did. It is my duty to help the less fortunate …’ Miss Middle’s voice trailed off as Samuel held up his hand.
‘Enough. For your information, Sarah had her bag stolen from the train on her journey here. Heedless of her own plight, she helped me attend a dying woman on the beach and in the process got her dress covered in blood. Mrs Daws suggested Sarah choose something from the jumble in our front room,’ he said, looking at Miss Middle as he emphasized the word jumble.
‘My dress is not jumble,’ she muttered, her hand flying to her throat.
‘And my god-daughter is not a thief,’ he said, his face becoming redder by the moment.
‘Well, we only meant to help,’ Miss Snooper sniffed.
‘As if having her bag taken wasn’t bad enough, she also had her purse stolen when she was assisting with our Sunday luncheon for the waifs.’
‘Well, what do you expect if you will invite all and sundry into your home?’ Miss Prior said, shaking her head.
‘I’d expect a little sympathy and understanding from ladies who profess to have the well-being of the community at heart. Now, we have important things to attend to, so I’ll bid you good morning,’ he said, opening the door and ushering them out.
‘Goodness, how embarrassing,’ Sarah murmured. ‘No wonder you got rid of them so quickly. I’ll go and change at once.’ Samuel shook his head, and she noticed his lips were quivering.
‘I had to get rid of them before I disgraced myself by pointing out that Miss Middle is quite twice your size and has no middle whatsoever. There is no way that dress could have been hers, Sarah.’
‘I fear it might have been, Uncle, for I borrowed a needle and thread from Mrs Daws and altered it to fit.’ To her amazement, her uncle burst out laughing.
‘That’s quite the funniest thing I’ve ever heard,’ he roared, tears streaming down his face, but then his laughter turned to coughing, and he slumped back in his chair.
‘Oh, Uncle, I wish you’d let me get a doctor to look at you,’ Sarah cried, pouring water as he struggled for his pills.
‘I see one every day in the mirror, my dear,’ he wheezed. ‘And it does me no good whatsoever.’ He shivered and Sarah looked over at the boarded window then down at the fireplace, where an arrangement of dried flowers graced the hearth.
‘I think we should get Mrs Daws to light a fire in here,’ she suggested.
Samuel shook his head. ‘No money for such luxury,’ he gasped.
‘Well, I’m going to get Mrs Daws to make us a hot drink.’
‘All this fussing,’ he whispered. ‘You’ll make someone a good wife one day, my dear.’ Sarah opened her mouth to say her experience with Rodney had put her off that idea but his eyes had fluttered closed.
10
As Sarah opened the door to the kitchen, the warmth from the range welcomed her once more. Mrs Daws, who was kneading dough on the scrubbed table, took one look at her worried expression, and asked, ‘What’s up, Miss Sullivan?’
‘I’m worried about the doctor. It’s so cold in his room, yet when I suggested lighting a fire he said there was no money for such luxury. There’s a right old draught coming through that boarded-up window as well. It doesn’t seem right he should suffer when he does so much for everyone else.’
‘Don’t you fret, dear. Master Higgins has spoken to someone about that, and it is to be fixed this week.’
‘But the doctor looks so frail, and as for that awful cough, I’m sure he’s really ill.’
Mrs Daws eyed her sharply. ‘Has he said he is?’
‘No, he just muttered som
ething about anno domini and having to take it easier when I first came to see him.’
‘Well, there you are, then,’ the housekeeper replied, punching the dough hard. ‘Now, did you come in for anything particular?’
‘I was going to get a cup of tea for the doctor but he had a nasty coughing fit and has fallen asleep.’
‘Better leave him be, then. Rest is best, as they say, and goodness knows he never seems to sleep at night. April’s always saying she hasn’t had to make his bed ’cos it hasn’t been slept in. Now, if you’ve nothing better to do, you can give me a hand with this lot. Those Sunday luncheons might be a good idea for them poor children but they play havoc with my supplies,’ she said, thwacking another lump of dough on the table in front of Sarah.
The rhythmic kneading soothed Sarah’s mood, but she had the feeling she was being watched. Frowning, she stared around the room and spotted a large ginger cat eying her from the chair beside the range.
‘Oh, I didn’t know you had a pet here at Red Cliffs,’ she cried. The housekeeper laughed.
‘Old Marmalade’s a regular visitor. Only creeps in here when it’s quiet, though. He’ll scarper as soon as the children appear. Still, it’s a bit of company for me, and we always find you a scrap or two, don’t we, old chap?’ she crooned affectionately. As if he understood, the cat opened his mouth wide then began purring. They continued their kneading in contented silence for a few moments.
‘Are you settling in, dear?’ Mrs Daws asked, turning to face her.
‘I think so, although those ladies from the church were rather hostile when they saw me wearing this,’ she sighed, pointing to her dress. ‘Miss Middle said it was hers and this material was of the highest quality.’
‘And what do you think?’ the housekeeper asked. Sarah was quiet for a moment, wondering if she should voice her opinion. She decided against it. ‘If you ask me, dearie, that serge came from the market, and whilst there’s nothing wrong with that, it is hardly of superior weight. If you want my advice, you’ll pay lip service to Hubble, Bubble and Trouble and no more.’ The housekeeper grinned conspiratorially.
‘That makes me feel so much better, Mrs Daws,’ she said, smiling at the housekeeper’s choice of names. ‘Miss Middle accused me of stealing it, you know.’
‘Well, a dog knows its own tricks. Anyhow, I don’t reckon that colour does much for you. It’s too harsh. I was sorting through one of the piles of donated clothes and came across a lovely dress in moss green which will suit you a treat. Mrs Laver is washing it as we speak. Of course, you’ll probably have to take your needle to it but you made a beautiful job of altering that one to fit,’ she said, pointing a floury hand towards the skirt of Sarah’s dress. ‘Better than that travelling schoolmistress, Miss Green, would have done, any road.’
‘I remember the doctor mentioning that a lady teacher called a couple of times a week to teach the girls needlework and other skills they will need when they leave school.’
The housekeeper narrowed her eyes. ‘Not sure how learning to sew fancy stitches on a sampler will help with that, I’m sure, and being a spinster who still lives at home, the extent of her knowledge of the skills required for running a home is purely theoretical. They learn far more helping out in the kitchen and growing vegetables in the garden.’
‘Perhaps I could show them how to alter some of those clothes. If they wore things that actually fitted, they would look so much better and it would increase their self-esteem,’ Sarah said, her spirits rising at the thought of being able to do something practical to help the young girls.
‘Self-esteem, eh? Well, there’s a thought,’ the housekeeper replied. ‘Now, let’s leave the dough to prove. We’ve just time to have a cuppa before those children take their break and fill the yard with noise. Talking of children, I see young Monday, as you call her, is still creeping into your bed of a night.’
‘I don’t mind. It offers a bit of comfort,’ Sarah smiled.
‘Yes, but for whom? It won’t do you any good if you get too attached, especially if they find she’s got a family.’
‘I know,’ Sarah sighed. ‘Apparently her father’s at sea but she has Romany grandparents camping near Torre. Her grandmother is going to call when she can get into the town.’
‘Kind of her to put herself out, I’m sure,’ Mrs Daws sniffed. ‘However, if she’s family and wants to take the little girl home with her there’s nothing we can do to stop her. Now, wipe your hands and get this down you,’ she said, pushing a cup of tea in front of Sarah.
When Sarah took a hot drink through to the doctor, she found his study empty. Settling herself at the desk, she’d just opened a large, dusty ledger when there was a knock at the door.
‘No doctor?’ Mrs Daws asked, peering into the room. ‘Well, perhaps that’s a blessing ’cos Bert’s here to mend the window.’
‘But surely the doctor would be pleased?’ Sarah frowned.
‘Yes, well, if it’s one of them fetey compli thingys it will be better, won’t it, Bert?’ she grinned, tapping the side of her nose. The housekeeper pushed the door wider open so that a round, cheery-looking man could enter. He was dressed in overalls, carried a battered tool bag and had a large wrapped parcel under his arm.
‘Mornin’, miss,’ he chirped. ‘Sorry, can’t doff me cap ’cos me ’ands is full and I don’t want to drop this ’ere glass. That’s better,’ he puffed, resting the pane against the wall.
‘I’ll get you a cuppa, Bert,’ Mrs Daws said.
‘You’re welcome to the doctor’s, it’s still warm,’ Sarah offered, picking up the cup and saucer from the desk.
‘Ta, just the ticket,’ the man grinned before downing the drink in one. ‘Now, let’s get this done before the doctor comes back. Luckily ’arry boy had the measurement so I could bring the right size glass to fit.’
‘’Arry boy?’ Sarah asked.
‘The master, Miss Sullivan. You see, he remembered Bert here saying if there was ever anything he could do for the doctor, he only had to say.’
‘Ters right. Don’t know what I’d ’ave done when my Dol was so ill if he ’adn’t come round and give her that medicine. He’s a right good egg. Knew I was out of work and wouldn’t be able to pay, but he insisted.’
‘And Master Higgins did your shopping when you weren’t able to leave her, didn’t he, Bert?’
The man nodded. ‘An’ ’e wouldn’t take no money either, so here I am to pay me dues so to speak.’
‘Well, this won’t knit the baby a bonnet, so I’ll leave you to it,’ Mrs Daws said. ‘There’ll be another cuppa in the kitchen when you’ve finished, Bert.’
‘Ta, Mrs D,’ he called over his shoulder, for he was already busy taking down the temporary boarding.
Marvelling at the way these people’s pride wouldn’t allow them to take anything for nothing, Sarah bent her head back over her paperwork. How different to Rodney. As the thought popped into her mind, she pushed it firmly out again and went back to studying the doctor’s figures. The scribble was almost impossible to decipher, and his bookkeeping seemed to consist of bills and receipts tucked inside the ledger rather than being entered.
‘There, all done.’ Sarah looked up to see Bert grinning as he pointed to the new glass sparkling in the window. ‘Mind you, that there frame’s warped and needs replacing as well, but that should keep out them draughts ’arry boy was talkin’ of. You the doctor’s god-daughter then? Good job you come to ’elp ’cos he needs it from what I hear. Anyhow, I’ll go and get that cuppa from Mrs D.’ He picked up his tool box, gave a little wave and whistled his way out of the door.
Sarah was still smiling at the thought of the stern master having a soft centre, when the doctor returned.
‘That mist is really bad today. I know we live by the sea but I can’t remember it being this bad before,’ he said, removing his hat and placing it carefully on the stand. Although it had clearly seen better days, Sarah noticed he treated it as if it was new. ‘Oh,’ he e
xclaimed. ‘Higgins has replaced the window. He must have found some glass in the workroom.’
Thinking it pertinent not to mention Bert’s visit, Sarah smiled. ‘It’s much lighter, and not so draughty either.’ Then, not wishing to dwell on the subject, she pointed to the ledger. ‘Do you have time to help me with some of these figures before luncheon?’
‘If I must,’ he grimaced. ‘I’ve just been talking with the vicar about our earlier visitors, and it would appear it’s given him inspiration for his sermon next Sunday.’
Sarah looked at the mischief sparkling in her uncle’s eyes and smiled. He was incorrigible; she could see how he’d managed to make a success of the school.
‘I’m pleased to see you looking better, Uncle.’
‘Thank you, my dear. It’s just that wretched cough. It takes me unawares sometimes. Now, if we really must look at these wretched numbers, let’s get it over with.’
Harry Higgins did a mental head count of his pupils and was gratified to see numbers had stayed consistent. Although it was harder teaching a large class, he knew the powers that be would use any excuse they could to try and close the school, especially as some of the more influential people residing in the area thought it lowered the tone of the neighbourhood.
For once, all the children were absorbed in the task he’d set them. Even young Maisie and Monday were trying their best to draw a picture of their ideal holiday. They were unlikely to have the luxury of a vacation but he knew it was important to give them something to dream about. Having spent the morning doing their sums and learning exactly how little money would buy them in the shops, he felt they deserved ten minutes of something lighter.
He walked around the room, murmuring encouragement at the inevitable drawings of boats, sandcastles and hokey-pokeys. Then he saw what Monday had drawn and almost did a double take. It was clearly a picture of a vargo with a campfire to one side.
‘That’s a very good gypsy caravan,’ he praised. ‘Have you seen one of those before?’ Two periwinkle eyes regarded him seriously.
‘Me’s done a fairy castle,’ Maisie piped up. Trying not to show his frustration at the interruption, he smiled down at the young girl’s slate.