by Linda Finlay
‘Of course,’ she murmured. She paused for a moment, then rose quickly to her feet. ‘Well, this won’t knit the baby a bonnet, as Mrs Daws always says. Or, in my case, get those flaming forms filled in ready for the accountant.’
‘If you need any help, you only have to say.’
‘I suppose you’re an authority on everything here,’ she replied.
‘Not at all. However, I’ve been here for some time and have a general idea what makes things tick.’
‘Well, you were right about April. It was unfair of me to take it out on her. I’ll go and apologize immediately, sir,’ she said, giving him a salute.
‘Quite right too, Miss Sullivan,’ he grinned. ‘Can’t have mutiny in the ranks.’
Feeling better for clearing the air with Sarah, Harry whistled his way down the path towards the schoolroom. However, his usual ability to sense trouble alerted him to a huddle of boys behind the compost heap.
‘Leave me be,’ he heard a young voice yelp.
‘’And it over, ven. You was warned.’ Recognizing the voice of Bunter, he quickened his step and headed towards them.
‘Leave him alone, you bully,’ said another familiar young voice.
‘Brown, Black, what’s going on?’ he shouted.
‘It’s Bully Bunter, sir. He’s been threatening the little ones,’ Black said.
Harry looked from the spoils in Bunter’s hands to the two young boys who were now cowering behind the shed. ‘What have you to say for yourself, Bunter, you serpulid little worm, you?’ Harry said, gripping the boy by his ear.
‘Oy! Vat ’urts,’ Bunter yelled, his face growing red. ‘I ain’t dun nuffink. It woz vem,’ he nodded towards Black and Brown. ‘Vey jumped me.’
‘So, you were just quietly walking down the garden, minding your own business when Brown and Black set upon you?’ Harry asked, quietly.
The boy nodded. ‘Yeah, vat’s ’xactly ’ow it woz.’
‘So why are Byrd and Dibble twitching like terrified mice behind the shed?’
‘Search me,’ he shrugged.
‘I intend to,’ Harry muttered, spying the bread sticking out of the boy’s pockets.
‘He made Sparrow Legs and Spittle save their bread for him. He spat in their food and said he’d do worse if they didn’t, sir,’ Brown piped up.
‘Thank you, Brown. Whilst I agree Bunter’s grammar leaves a lot to be desired, when I need an interpreter I will ask for one.’ He turned and stared sternly at the oldest pupil in his class. ‘Is this true, Bunter?’
‘’Cors not.’ Harry stared pointedly at the bread in the boy’s hand then pointed to his pocket.
‘I was helpin’ ’cos they couldn’ eat it.’
‘Lies slide from your tongue like butter off a hot spoon, Bunter. When we go to church tomorrow, I shall ask the vicar to keep you behind and train you up as one of his clerics. What do you think of that idea?’
‘I ain’t wearin’ no poncy frock,’ Bunter protested.
‘You may not have any choice in the matter. I haven’t got time to speak to you now. Go and see Mrs Daws, and tell her to set you to work in the scullery. I’ve a feeling she’ll have a nice furry little job waiting. The rest of you, take yourselves into the classroom this minute.’
Back in her office, Sarah kicked out at one of the boxes. Blooming things, she muttered. If she didn’t have all these blessed papers to sort, she could devote more time to Monday. If Harry Higgins thought he was going to send her to the Deaconess, he had another think coming. She spent the next hour moving the boxes to the far end of the room, out of her way. It wasn’t a practical solution, but the physical exertion of pushing and pulling them out of her way made her feel better. There was a hesitant tap on the door. Sarah swore under her breath.
‘Sergeant Watts is here to see you, Miss Sullivan,’ Mrs Daws said, looking apprehensive.
Sarah forced a smile. ‘Show him in, Mrs Daws.’
‘He’s brought a little girl with him and wants to know if Red Cliffs can take her in, temporary like. Poor little lass is filthy and looks fair starved. I’ll clean her up then give her a bite to eat whilst you discuss things with the sergeant,’ the housekeeper said.
Sarah looked at the good-hearted woman and felt ashamed of her earlier outburst. ‘You’re a treasure, Mrs Daws, the way you always put the needs of a child first, despite having so much to do.’
‘Ah well, the chores can be done later whereas that poor little lass is scared out of her wits. Red Cliffs is all about priorities and seeing the wider picture, Miss Sullivan. At least, that’s what the good doctor always said,’ she added, giving Sarah one of her looks. ‘I’ll show the sergeant in, then,’ she added.
As the woman bustled away, Sarah felt she’d been given some kind of message.
‘Miss Sullivan,’ Sergeant Watts said, taking off his hat as he entered the study. Then he looked around, frowning at all the boxes stacked under the window, their contents spilling over the floor, the forms scattered across her desk.
‘Sergeant Watts, it’s good to see you again.’
‘Looks like you could do with getting yourself a housewife,’ he chuckled. Sarah smiled politely. ‘I could always send Mrs Watts around to help you. She’d show you how to tidy up in next to no time. Proper good housekeeper, she is.’
‘I’m sure she is,’ Sarah replied, thinking the poor little woman probably wouldn’t dare be otherwise. ‘I understand you are here on business,’ she said, anxious to get their meeting back onto its right footing.
He cleared his throat and remained standing. ‘I am, Miss Sullivan.’
22
‘I understand you have brought a little girl here?’ Sarah asked.
The sergeant nodded gravely. ‘Indeed I have. Saved from the wheels of a cart, she was,’ he informed her, puffing out his chest so that the buttons on his jacket strained in the way Sarah remembered.
‘Sounds like an unfortunate accident, Sergeant.’
‘Oh no, miss. A man was chasing her with his belt and when the milk cart rounded the corner he pushed her right out in front. If it hadn’t been for the driver being so quick-thinking, she’d have been squashed flat as the wife’s smoothing iron either by the horse’s shoes or the cart’s wheels.’
‘That’s dreadful,’ Sarah said, shuddering. ‘And the man?’
‘Vanished like the morning mist,’ Sergeant Watts replied. ‘Or probably scotch mist in his case, ’cos apparently he was as drunk as a skunk.’ He sniffed. ‘And at this time of day as well. Anyhow, I asked at the orphanage but they’re full to bursting. Now, the good doctor never turned anyone away, so …’
‘Of course she must stay here,’ Sarah cried.
The sergeant looked relieved. ‘Well, if you could give me the usual receipt, I’ll be on my way.’
‘Usual receipt? For what?’ she asked, looking askance.
‘Proof that you’re keeping the girl,’ he replied, shaking his head. ‘The doctor always gave me a form, though how you can find anything in this mess, I don’t know,’ he added, grimacing at the array of forms, ledgers and papers on her desk.
Sarah groaned inwardly. Which form was she supposed to give him? As she stood there dithering, there was a sharp rap, and Harry popped his head around the door.
‘Sorry, I didn’t know you had a visitor, Miss Sullivan. Good morning, Sergeant Watts. The pupils haven’t been getting into trouble, I hope?’
‘No, Master Higgins. Your little lot could show some of them adults how to behave, and that’s a fact. Why, only …’
‘The sergeant has brought a little girl with him. She’s in the kitchen having something to eat,’ Sarah jumped in quickly, fearful the man might embark on yet another of his lengthy explanations. ‘Apparently, he requires a receipt for her,’ she finished, frowning down at the paperwork.
‘Ah, yes, you need Form RT176,’ Harry said, easing out a blue document from an open folder.
‘Good job you know, Master Higgins. I was only saying earlier that Miss
Sullivan should concentrate on housewifely things rather than …’
‘Here you are, I’ve signed in the usual place,’ Harry said, scribbling something at the end of the form and handing it to the man. ‘Is there anything else, Sergeant?’
The man shook his head. ‘No, I’d better be off, lots to do, you know. I can see you’ll have your work cut out teaching this one about paperwork, Master Higgins,’ he said.
Harry took one look at Sarah’s reddening cheeks and knew he had to act quickly. ‘It took me ages to learn what each form was for, Sergeant Watts. However, Miss Sullivan is extremely quick on the uptake. At this rate, she’ll soon be telling me what’s what. Now, I must return to the schoolroom, so let me escort you to the front door,’ he said, darting Sarah a look as he ushered the man from the room.
‘I’ll give Constable Potts your regards, shall I, miss?’ the sergeant asked.
‘Please do,’ Sarah muttered. As soon as the man had gone, she sank into the chair and put her head in her hands. How would she ever learn which form was for what? As she sat ruminating, Harry returned, pretending to mop his brow.
‘Watts is a good chap but hard going. Don’t look so worried, Sarah. There might be a lot to get to grips with, but you’ll soon learn.’
‘But I didn’t even know those forms had special numbers,’ she sighed.
‘They don’t,’ he replied, a mischievous gleam sparking in his eyes. ‘It was the doctor’s way of getting rid of him. He’d say, “Ah, yes, you need form bla, bla, bla, Sergeant”, and would pull one out at random, scribble his name and hand it to the man.’
‘You’re joking?’ Sarah gasped. ‘Didn’t the sergeant ever mention it to him?’
‘Nope, so he can’t even have looked at the forms, can he?’
‘But that sounds highly irregular.’
‘It probably is, but nobody ever questioned the doctor,’ Harry laughed then looked around the room. ‘I can see you’ve had a busy morning, but don’t overdo it, will you?’
‘No, I won’t. I must check on the new girl. Mrs Daws said she looked starved and was taking her to the kitchen,’ Sarah said, getting to her feet.
Harry chuckled. ‘There’s really no hurry, for that poor girl will have to be bathed, shorn and issued with clean clothing before she’s allowed anywhere near Mrs Daws’ pristine kitchen.’
‘But she’ll need my help,’ Sarah protested, only to have Harry raise his brow.
‘Mrs Daws is quite capable, and, besides, she has her own way of doing things. However, the girl will have to be examined before she can mix with the others, so I’ll get Dr Hawkins to call in as soon as he can. It’s about time the others were given the once-over again anyhow.’
‘You make them sound like a herd of cattle,’ Sarah said, pulling a face.
‘Not much difference sometimes, which reminds me, I’m taking the boys up to the farm this afternoon to give old Jim a hand. Mrs Daws was worried about them hearing from the girls what Miss Green told them, so I’ve promised to give them a little pep talk on the way. Mrs Daws is going to explain about the moral thing properly to the girls when she has them for house skills later. Hopefully, that will clear up any misunderstandings. You might like to give her some moral support, if you’ll forgive the pun,’ he laughed.
Sarah smiled. ‘I certainly will. I’d hate to think of them all going around believing they might be jumped upon by rabbits. Honestly, whatever was the woman thinking of?’
‘I have no idea. Mrs Daws said she never wanted to see or hear about them again, but a couple arrived this morning, courtesy of our local poacher, Walt.’
‘Oh no, poor Mrs Daws.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ve got one of the boys preparing them for the pot as penance for bullying a couple of the younger ones. He’s making a right mess of it, so it’s a good job it’s bath night,’ he chortled.
‘That must mean it’s Saturday. Don’t they ever get fed up with doing the same things at the same time every week?’ she asked curiously.
‘Most have had such traumatic little lives, they find comfort in the routine, Sarah. What might seem monotonous to us gives them a sense of security. Talking of routine, I notice you haven’t had a break since you’ve been here, so whilst those grimy little bodies are being scrubbed under the watchful eye of Mrs Daws and Mrs Laver, why don’t we walk into town and have a fish supper? Unless I’m treading on the constable’s size nines?’
‘Goodness, no, heaven forbid,’ Sarah spluttered.
‘Can I take it that means you will walk out with me for a bite of supper?’ Harry asked.
As he stood staring at her intently, despite their recent disagreements, Sarah felt the sparks fly between them once more. Not trusting herself to reply, she could only nod her acceptance. The warm smile he gave her as he left sent her heart spinning, like the Catherine wheels her father used to light for her on Guy Fawkes’ night.
Come on, get a grip, Sarah Sullivan, she thought to herself, rising to her feet and hurrying down the corridor. The man’s only asked you to share a fish supper with him. Only then did she remember she hadn’t asked him what he had called into her office for.
*
April was busy preparing the luncheon when Sarah entered the warm kitchen. The enticing aroma of freshly baked bread and cooking vegetables made her realize it had been a long time since breakfast. Marmalade, curled up on the chair by the range, opened one sleepy eye and, having ascertained Sarah posed no threat, promptly closed it again.
‘Mrs Daws is helping Mrs Laver with the new girl,’ April said, looking up from the pan she was stirring. ‘Luckily, she was here for her customary tea and blether before putting the soiled stuff to soak, ’cos that new one’s a right firecracker and no mistake.’
‘Poor thing’s probably petrified after her earlier ordeal. Anyway, I’m glad we’re alone, April, for I want to apologize. I realize now that you were only trying to help Monday with her cutlery and I shouldn’t have snapped at you.’
The girl stared at Sarah thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Happen I wish you was right, miss, about us using our domino hand.’
‘Dominant, April, the word is dominant,’ Sarah gently corrected. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Well, I likes to use my left hand for writing and cooking. It comes natural, like,’ she said, staring down at the spoon in her left hand. ‘See, miss?’
Sarah nodded.
‘That Miss Green said I was sinister. Always tied my left hand behind my back so I couldn’t use it. I didn’t want Monday to go through that, she’s such a sweetie and too young to be called sinister.’
‘Nobody should be called that, April. You are sweet and helpful and most certainly not sinister,’ Sarah said, patting the girl’s shoulder. ‘Now, shall I cut the bread?’
‘You’re all right, you are, miss,’ April smiled, then turned back to stirring her soup. They were working in companionable silence when a strangled sob came from the pantry. Sarah looked askance at April, who gave a funny laugh.
‘That’s poor Bunter. The master’s sent him to prepare the rabbits, and he’s making a right old song and dance about it. He’s been in there for ages and hasn’t even done one yet. I offered to help but Mrs Daws said it was his pennies and to leave him to get on with it.’
‘I think you mean penance, April. It means he has to atone for bullying the younger ones.’
‘I’ll leave him to it, then. One thing I can’t abide ’tis bullying,’ she said, raising her voice. Immediately, the sniffling from the scullery got louder. The girl sounded just like the housekeeper, and Sarah had to bend her face over the loaf to hide her smile.
‘’Tis a shame Monday hasn’t found that voice of hers yet,’ April commented, turning and seeing the little girl run past the window.
‘Is she still only friends with Maisie?’ Sarah couldn’t help asking, remembering her earlier conversation with the master about the Deaconess.
‘Yeah. Maisie’s the only one who can understand her. Though i
f Edith has a night trauma, the little poppet hops into her bed and comforts her. It’s strange, really, ’cos they don’t really mix during the day.’
A sudden screech and squawking, followed by the outside door bursting open, interrupted their conversation. The ginger cat opened its eyes, arched its back, then fled.
‘You’ll have to let me put some cream on those or they’ll fester,’ Mrs Daws said, leading the sobbing little girl firmly by the arm. Her hair had been shaved, and she was wrapped in a towel.
‘But it hurts.’
‘I know, but if you’ll just let me rub this in, I promise it’ll make your back feel better,’ the housekeeper soothed, dropping to her knees on the mat. As she gently peeled away the cloth, the pervading smell of carbolic filled the room. Sarah and April stared at each other in horror. The girl’s back was covered in livid purple wheals. They watched as Mrs Daws tenderly dabbed the skin with lotion, then eased a drab dress over the girl’s bony shoulders, where it hung like a billowing tent over her skinny frame.
‘Now can I have something to eat?’ the little girl pleaded, then her eyes narrowed as she saw Sarah and April watching. ‘This ain’t a peep show, you know,’ she hissed.
‘Let me check your head, and then you can have some of April’s nice, hot broth. How do you fancy that?’ The girl nodded eagerly, then sighed as Mrs Daws began running the funny comb over her shaved head. ‘Well, that’s got them little varmints for now,’ she pronounced, struggling to her feet.
The girl rubbed her scalp and shrugged. ‘At least it don’t itch now.’
‘This is Miss Sullivan and April,’ the housekeeper said, gesturing towards them. ‘Now you know our names, are you going to share yours, dearie?’
Two clear grey eyes surveyed them all solemnly. ‘Me name’s Kitty,’ she finally said.
‘And do you have a second name?’ Mrs Daws encouraged.
‘Nah, only posh kids have them,’ she replied.
‘Well, Kitty’s a pretty name,’ Sarah said, giving the girl a bright smile.
‘Pretty is as pretty does, me mam always said.’
Sarah opened her mouth to ask about her mother then closed it again when she saw Mrs Daws shake her head.