Monday's Child

by Linda Finlay

  12

  Oblivious to the disquiet his comments had raised, the sergeant began sorting through his files.

  ‘Ah, here we are,’ he said, pulling out a report. ‘Deceased found on beach, cause of death to be confirmed. Young girl, presumed to be daughter, approximate age five to six years, taken to Red Cliffs. Terrible business,’ he sighed. ‘Well, if you’re sure you can keep her that’ll be a help, Doctor. We’ll contact the father when his ship docks and break the sad news about his wife.’

  ‘Thank you, Sergeant. I believe the verger, Jack Wise, told you that Sarah’s bag went missing on her train journey from Newton?’ Sergeant Watts nodded. ‘We called at the lost property office on our way here but the clerk said it hasn’t been handed in. I don’t suppose you’ve been able to find out anything?’ Samuel asked.

  ‘Afraid not, Doctor. Although we will continue with our enquiries, of course. We know there is some kind of racket going on with passengers’ luggage and all sorts going missing. It’s not just in Torquay, either. It’s happening on trains everywhere around the local network. Looks like the work of an organized gang. We’ll nab them in the end, of course.’

  ‘That’s reassuring to know,’ Samuel acknowledged.

  The sergeant nodded then turned to Sarah. ‘I also heard from Jack that you had your purse stolen by one of them ragamuffins. And under the doctor’s roof too. Don’t know what things are coming to, I’m sure.’ He took off his glasses, rubbed them vigorously with his kerchief then put them on again. ‘All this must be enough to make you think of going back home, Miss Sullivan, or do you have another reason for being here? A love interest, one of them rich holidaymakers perhaps?’ He said it in such a condescending manner, Sarah felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristle. ‘At your age, a pretty young thing like yourself must be thinking of settling down?’

  A picture of Rodney flashed in her mind, but instead of being accompanied by the usual feeling of hurt, anger surfaced instead.

  ‘I have come to Red Cliffs at my uncle’s request and will leave when he no longer requires my help, Sergeant Watts,’ she said crisply. Then, seeing her uncle frown, she added quickly, ‘However, it is good to know you are making enquiries about my loss, and for that I’m truly grateful.’ The sergeant puffed out his chest at her praise, and Sarah was sure the buttons would pop off at any moment.

  ‘I don’t suppose there’s much chance of recovering Sarah’s purse either?’ Samuel asked.

  ‘About as much chance as me being able to turn that gauche constable into a top-ranking officer,’ Watts sighed. ‘I understand you’re from Plymouth way, miss. Not been much of an introduction to Torquay, has it? And now you’ve got another stray to look after.’

  Stray? Sarah stared at him in disgust. Wasn’t that how people referred to roaming cats and dogs?

  ‘We’ve named the little girl Monday, and as long as she remains in the care of Red Cliffs, I shall ensure she is well looked after,’ Sarah added.

  ‘Oh, you’re working at the school as some kind of nanny, are you?’ Watts asked.

  ‘Sarah is helping with the children, certainly, but her main purpose is to assist me with the paperwork and, in doing so, find out exactly how the school is run,’ Samuel explained. Watts raised his brows until they disappeared under his hat. ‘You find that surprising, Watts?’

  ‘Well, Doctor, I don’t mean to point out the obvious, but she is a female, and they’re reared to marry and look after our needs.’ He laughed and leaned forward. ‘Women can help with the youngsters, certainly, maybe even sort out simple paperwork, but they don’t have the brains to run anything. No offence, miss,’ he said, turning to Sarah.

  ‘Well, that’s where our opinions differ, Watts. Sarah is eminently capable of running Red Cliffs,’ Samuel stated firmly. It was only when he heard Sarah’s sharp intake of breath that he realized he still hadn’t told her of his intentions.

  ‘Pardon me, I’m sure,’ the sergeant sniffed. ‘It’s just that it’s normal for a woman of your age to settle down and rear her own children, Miss Sullivan.’

  ‘But things are changing, Sergeant,’ Sarah told him. ‘The National Union of Women’s Suffrage is really gaining strength now.’

  ‘Suffrage, piffle,’ he shrugged. ‘What do women know about suffering?’

  ‘The word means the right to vote, Sergeant. And when women attain our right to vote in Parliament, we shall be eligible to hold important posts in society, such as sitting on School Boards, for example.’

  ‘Never, my dear,’ Watts scoffed. ‘I appreciate your ambition, but a woman could never understand the complex way Parliament works.’

  ‘And you do, Sergeant?’ Sarah asked, staring unflinchingly at him.

  ‘I am a man, Miss Sullivan, and that is the difference between us. Now, if there is nothing else, Doctor, I have places to be, people to see,’ he said, getting to his feet.

  ‘Oh yes, the important man,’ Sarah muttered.

  ‘Thank you for your time, Sergeant Watts,’ Samuel said quickly. Seeing Sarah was about to continue arguing her case, he gently took her by the arm and led her from the room.

  When he saw Sarah, the constable smiled, a blush creeping up his cheeks until he resembled a ripe tomato. ‘G-good d-day Miss S-sullivan. I h-hope t-to s-see you again s-soon,’ he said.

  The sergeant, who was observing from his doorway, roared with laughter. ‘See, Miss Sullivan, that is what you women are good for, attracting the interests of the male species. Good day to you.’ And with a raucous laugh, he took himself back into his office.

  ‘Insufferable imbecile,’ Sarah muttered, striding out of the station.

  ‘Good for you, Sarah. You certainly told him. I had no idea Watts was such a bigot. Much as I value the work he does for our community, I must admit I find his views outmoded.’

  ‘Men like that belong in the last century,’ Sarah huffed.

  ‘I knew you were keen for women to get on in the world but never realized you were so impassioned,’ Samuel replied, admiration sparking in his eyes.

  ‘Yes, well, he annoyed me with his bigoted opinion on what women were good for.’

  ‘Never mind, it was obvious Potts took a shine to you,’ he chuckled then sobered quickly when he saw her scowl. ‘Sorry, Sarah, I shouldn’t tease. You’ve no idea how pleased I was to hear you tell Watts your opinion on women holding important posts in society.’ He sounded so sincere that as soon as they’d climbed into the cart, she turned to face him.

  ‘You believe women are capable, then?’

  ‘I most certainly do and think society would benefit hugely. When we return to the school, I would like to hear more about your views on women sitting on the School Boards, for there is something important I wish to discuss with you.’

  ‘We haven’t got the vote yet, Uncle.’

  ‘Ah, but if these suffragettes are half as determined as you, then it won’t be long before they do,’ he replied, giving her a shrewd look.

  Lost in their own thoughts, they were silent on the journey back to the school. The gas lights along the promenade had been lit and were flickering long, eerie shadows on the mizzle that cocooned them in a damp blanket. Every so often a wail from a ship moored out in the bay sounded through the gloom, adding to the mournful feel of the late afternoon. Remembering that Monday’s father was a stoker, Sarah wondered where he was headed and how long it would be before he returned for his daughter. Even though she knew this would be best for the little girl, she couldn’t help the overwhelming affection she felt for her and knew it would be hard to let Monday go.

  By the time they reached Red Cliffs, Samuel was coughing and wheezing. Relieved to see Pip ready with the gate open, Sarah called to him.

  ‘Pip, the doctor needs to get inside straight away. Will you see to the pony?’

  ‘’Cors I will,’ he said, hurrying over and helping Samuel from the cart. ‘Best get a hot drink down you, guv. You take him through the front door, miss, and I’ll tell Mrs Daws.
’

  Leaning heavily on Sarah’s arm, Samuel made it into his office and slumped in his chair. He fumbled for his bottle of pills but even that was too much for him, and after counting out the correct dose, Sarah gently held a tumbler of water to his lips.

  ‘I knew we shouldn’t have gone out in all that rain,’ she chided. ‘The damp air’s gone straight to your chest.’ Too weak to reply, he nodded.

  ‘Pip told me you’ve taken a turn, Doctor, so I’ve brought you in one of my specials,’ Mrs Daws said, bursting into the room with a steaming mug. ‘Now, sip this and you’ll feel better in no time,’ she crooned. It was just as if she was speaking to one of the children, Sarah thought, staring at the housekeeper in surprise. ‘You go and dry yourself by the range, young lady, or you’ll be ailing next,’ she added, seeing Sarah watching.

  ‘I’m fine, Mrs Daws,’ Sarah replied.

  ‘Well, you can go on through, anyway. I’ve left April coping with Maisie and Monday. They’re supposedly helping her spread the scrape the butcher sent up but they’re as much help as a chocolate teapot.’ She shook her head. ‘The broth’s done, it just needs serving then you can all sit down to supper. It’s nearly time for the gong to be rung anyway.’

  ‘But I really don’t want anything to eat, Mrs Daws,’ Sarah protested.

  ‘Maybe you don’t, but the others do. Harry’s gone to see his mother so someone needs to supervise the children,’ the woman said, all but pushing Sarah from the room.

  ‘Now then, Doctor,’ Sarah heard her say, ‘I’ve told April to put a warming pan in your bed, and I’m going to make sure you go upstairs and get some rest. I wouldn’t put it past you to start working on them blinking papers as soon as my back’s turned.’

  Sarah smiled and waited for her uncle to protest but to her astonishment, he mildly acquiesced. Fighting down her growing unease, she shook off her wet shawl then hurried along the hallway to the kitchen where Maisie and Monday were licking their fingers with glee.

  ‘Where’s April?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Putting pan in bed,’ Maisie answered, pointing to the ceiling.

  ‘I see. Have you finished spreading the bread for supper?’ As the girls looked at each other and giggled, worry about her uncle surfaced. ‘For heaven’s sake, rinse your hands then go and ring the gong,’ she snapped.

  ‘There’s no need to be like that, miss, they’re only little,’ April scolded, coming into the room. ‘And Monday’s had quite enough for one day, what with that horrid woman,’ she added, glaring at Sarah accusingly.

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry,’ Sarah sighed. ‘They’re such lovely little girls.’

  ‘Wish someone would call me lovely,’ April muttered.

  ‘Why, April, you’re the most loving person I’ve met,’ Sarah cried, horrified to think she’d upset her as well.

  ‘’Tisn’t the same as being lovely though, is it?’ April whispered, her hand going to the scar on her face as she stared down at her drab dress.

  ‘Oh, April, you are lovely,’ Sarah cried, pulling the girl close. ‘And one day you will wear a pretty dress.’

  ‘Now you’re being stupid, miss,’ April muttered. ‘The likes of me wear other people’s cast-offs. Always have, always will.’

  ‘Well, that’s where you could be wrong because I’ve had an idea, and …’ The rest of her sentence was drowned by sound of the gong being bashed crazily. As it resounded down the hall, a stampede of children appeared from all directions and swarmed into the dining room.

  It was still quite early when Sarah collapsed wearily on her bed. The children, noticing the absence of their master and the housekeeper, had played up over supper, taxing her patience to the limit. Perhaps Higgins was right about discipline and his insistence that children needed to have boundaries set, she mused.

  She’d knocked at the doctor’s bedroom on her way but Mrs Daws had opened the door, told her he was sleeping and wasn’t to be disturbed.

  ‘I shall sit in the chair beside his bed and watch over him,’ she’d assured Sarah. It was obvious she was very fond of the doctor, but then they’d worked together for many years, so that was understandable, Sarah thought.

  Although she was bone weary, her brain was buzzing like a bee on a rose bush. What a day it had been. That Sergeant Watts, calling Monday a stray, had really upset her. She thought of the dear little girl and the trusting way she looked at her and felt a warm glow inside. Thank heavens her uncle hadn’t let that ghastly woman take her away. Madam Rosa indeed. She was about as genuine as that Miss Snooper. And then, afterwards, when Monday had opened her mouth, they’d all thought she’d been going to speak. She sighed into the darkness. And poor April not thinking she was pretty. She was sure, if she could get the girls adapting the cast-offs to fit, they would feel better about themselves. Of course, she’d need to speak to the travelling schoolmistress, but surely the woman would understand the value of teaching them something practical rather than sewing stitches on a sampler.

  As for the sergeant’s prejudiced attitude. Just the thought of it made her bridle. Women were on this earth to tend to men’s needs, were they? She’d never heard anything like it. Or had she? Something tugged at the back of her memory as she recalled Rodney telling her he expected to come first in Sarah’s life. He’d been adamant he wouldn’t play second fiddle to her father, despite the fact he’d been ailing fast. As my betrothed, it is your duty to attend my needs before anything else, had been his exact words. His attitude had been the same as the sergeant’s, she realized. Why had she never seen it before? Not like Harry. The thought came unbidden, and she shook her head in the darkness.

  Remembering how her uncle had stood her corner when Watts had been spouting his chauvinistic opinions, she smiled. Her father had always encouraged her to achieve, and now it seemed she had an ally in his oldest friend. How fond she’d become of the man and how greatly she admired the work he tirelessly undertook for the school. She hoped he’d feel better after a night’s rest.

  Just as she was dropping off, she remembered her uncle saying he had something important to discuss with her. Well, it would have to wait until the morning, she realized as sleep finally claimed her.

  13

  In her dreams, Sarah was being pulled this way and that.

  ‘Sarah,’ she heard someone whisper in her ear. Thinking it was Monday climbing in beside her, she smiled. How she liked the comfort of the warm little body snuggling up to her. She reached out to cuddle her close, except there was no one there.

  ‘Sarah.’ The voice came again, more urgently this time. Sarah frowned. Monday didn’t speak. As the thought penetrated her sleep-fuddled brain, she opened one eye to find an agitated Mrs Daws, candle in hand, bending over her.

  ‘You must come quickly, the doctor’s asking for you.’

  ‘But it’s the middle of the night,’ Sarah whispered, glancing towards the window where the moon was shining brightly through the ill-fitting curtains.

  ‘Now, Sarah,’ the housekeeper urged, heading out of the room. Throwing her shawl over her nightdress, Sarah hurried after her. As they sped along the hallway, she was surprised to see the woman was still wearing her day clothes.

  ‘Here she is, Doctor,’ Mrs Daws crooned, leaning over the bed. Turning to Sarah, she whispered. ‘He’s in a bad way.’

  ‘Goodness, Uncle, you’re boiling up,’ Sarah murmured, reaching for the damp sponge on the rickety table beside his bed.

  ‘No time for that,’ he croaked. ‘Listen closely. I want you to take over the running of Red Cliffs, Sarah.’

  ‘You need to rest, Uncle,’ she soothed. ‘We can talk about this in the morning.’

  He took a raspy breath and fumbled feebly for her hand. ‘Promise me you’ll keep the school open,’ he insisted, his rheumy eyes boring into her.

  ‘Of course I will, Uncle,’ she promised, patting his hand reassuringly. He gave a weak smile, closed his eyes and gave a shuddering sigh. ‘Uncle?’ she whispered. ‘Are you all rig
ht?’

  ‘He’s going, my dear,’ Mrs Daws sobbed as she bent and kissed her employer gently on the forehead. ‘But he’ll soon be at peace, thanks to you.’

  Sarah stared from the housekeeper back to her uncle, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘No!’ she cried, sinking into the chair beside him. ‘Oh, please, dear heavens, no.’ She watched, as if in a trance, as Mrs Daws went over and opened the little window.

  ‘To let his soul fly free,’ the housekeeper whispered. ‘Oh, look, a full moon. They say the souls of saints are carried to heaven by them moonbeams. Knowing his time was near, I saved these to pay for his safe passage to the afterlife,’ she added, pulling two shiny pennies from the pocket of her apron. Murmuring a prayer, she carefully placed one over each eye.

  Sarah stood staring at him, the tears cascading down her cheeks as she tried to come to terms with his passing. She looked at Mrs Daws and, even in the flickering light of the candle, could see how distraught the woman was. Making a concerted effort to pull herself together, Sarah took the woman by the arm.

  ‘Come along, Mrs Daws, I’ll make you a hot drink,’ she said, gently leading her from the room.

  Down in the kitchen, Sarah sat the trembling woman beside the range then riddled the embers into a blaze. As she put the kettle on the hob and set out the tea things, Marmalade, as if sensing his mistress’ distress, sprang onto the housekeeper’s lap.

  ‘He’s gone, Marmy, the doctor’s gone,’ she sobbed, burying her head in the ginger fur.

  As Sarah automatically poured the water into the big brown pot, her thoughts kept returning to the same question. Had that damp been the last straw for her ailing godfather? With a sob, she sank into the nearest chair and buried her face in her hands. Suddenly she was aware of a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Don’t cry, Sarah. Thanks to you, he was able to pass peacefully,’ the housekeeper whispered, as the ginger tom snaked between their legs.

  ‘But it’s my fault he’s dead. If only I’d insisted that he stayed indoors yesterday afternoon.’