Monday's Child

by Linda Finlay

  ‘Now, dear, you sit down at the table here and have your luncheon with me. We can have a nice little chat while April and Miss Sullivan supervise luncheon in the dining room. It can get a bit noisy in there, and I expect you’d like to have a bit of peace.’

  ‘What I’d like is some grub,’ Kitty replied.

  Another sniffle came from the scullery. Before they could stop her, the girl ran over and disappeared inside.

  ‘Blimey, you’re makin’ a bleedin’ mess of that and no mistake. Give it me, boy, and I’ll show you how it’s done.’

  ‘Well I never,’ said Mrs Daws, staring through the open door. ‘She’s skinned that rabbit in half the time I ever could.’

  23

  Sarah was in a cheerful mood as she made her way back to the office after luncheon. The girls seemed more friendly towards her after their chat the previous evening, and she was beginning to feel she belonged at Red Cliffs. Then there was her fish and chip supper with Harry, which she was really looking forward to. It would be a good opportunity to get to know him better, and she couldn’t deny a walk along the promenade appealed. She’d have to rake through her closet for something decent to wear, for the fashion-conscious visitors were sure to be out on a Saturday night. Then she laughed. Her wardrobe these days consisted of cast-offs, and whilst she was grateful to have them, they were hardly of the latest mode. It would still be nice to see more of Torquay itself, though, for she’d hardly left Red Cliffs since she’d arrived.

  As soon as she opened the door, she noticed the letter propped up against the glass paperweight. Picking up the little brass opener with its incongruous pixie handle, she carefully slit open the envelope, noting the thickness of the paper. It was from Mr Fothergill, recapping the salient points of their recent meeting. She was about to put it aside to read later when the penultimate paragraph caught her eye.

  As you have already been informed, Mr Christian Lawrence, nephew of the late Dr Samuel Lawrence, is contesting his uncle’s will. You are now advised, he has lodged a complaint against Red Cliffs Ragged School stating that the dilapidated condition of the property lowers the tone of an otherwise respectable neighbourhood. Furthermore, Mr Lawrence claims the children, clothed in rags, their hair shorn like convicts, run wild in the streets and cavort in the sea when they should be attending class. As he has informed the local authority, they are obliged to carry out an inspection of the school known as Red Cliffs. They will pay a visit within the next twenty-eight days, and it is essential you lodge the school’s accounts with Messrs Calculus and Arithmica forthwith in order that they may conduct an audit before said inspection takes place.

  Please do not hesitate to contact me if I can be of any further assistance.

  Yours sincerely,

  A. Fothergill, Esq.

  Well, of all the cheek, Sarah fumed. How dare Christian make such outrageous claims about the children of Red Cliffs? They weren’t permitted out of the grounds without being accompanied by an adult, and a vigilant Pip ensured the gates were kept locked at all times. As for cavorting in the sea, didn’t the authorities realize the benefit of taking exercise in the briny air? The pupils might not have uniforms in the conventional manner, and their hair had to be shorn for hygiene purposes, but they were always well behaved outside the school; Master Higgins made sure of that. She stared around the room, taking in the peeling wallpaper, the filling bursting from the chairs, the sundry boxes and files lined up against the walls, and sighed. Even if she could persuade the bank to release funds for redecoration, there wouldn’t be time to make any real difference before the inspection.

  Then her thoughts turned to despair. It seemed Christian would go to any lengths to get the school closed down and claim Red Cliffs as his own. Although she was prepared to fight tooth and nail to keep it open, could she succeed in the face of such formidable opposition? Hadn’t Harry intimated the inspectors already had concerns? What would happen to him, Mrs Daws and the children if Red Cliffs were shut down?

  Suddenly she was gripped by an overwhelming determination. Her uncle had entrusted the school into her care, and she would do everything in her power to keep it open.

  ‘If Christian Lawrence thinks I’m giving up without a fight, he’s got another think coming,’ she muttered, screwing the letter into a ball and throwing it at the door just as it opened.

  ‘Ouch,’ Harry moaned as the missive hit him on the forehead.

  ‘Sorry, Harry,’ Sarah sighed. ‘I didn’t know you were about to enter.’

  He stood there studying her for a moment. ‘As you’re looking incensed, I can only guess this contained unwelcome news?’ he asked, quirking his brow as he handed her the scrunched-up letter.

  ‘You’d better read it for yourself,’ she sighed.

  Carefully, he spread the letter out on the desk, then scanned the contents. ‘Well, we’ve had inspections before so I am sure we can cope with another,’ he commented, giving her a reassuring smile.

  ‘But what about the state of the house? It does need a lot of attention,’ Sarah said, giving a deeper sigh.

  ‘The local authority understands the school’s cash constraints. They also know that Red Cliffs can’t fund uniforms, and we have never had any complaints about the children’s behaviour outside the school. Well, apart from the odd comment in church when one of them got bored and decided to voice his own opinions on the vicar’s rather long-winded sermon,’ he grinned wryly.

  ‘They want to see audited accounts, though. I’ve made some progress with the ledgers but my godfather’s writing is not easy to decipher.’

  ‘I’m more used to it than you, so why not let me help?’ he suggested. ‘Of course, it will mean we’ll have to postpone our fish and chip supper,’ he added quickly when she shot him a grateful look. ‘We can treat ourselves by way of celebration when we’ve completed this onerous task.’

  ‘Oh, Harry, you make it sound like the inspection will be a mere formality. If you’re sure you don’t mind helping me with the accounts, I’d be really grateful,’ she replied, feeling happier.

  He smiled then looked out of the window. ‘The boys are lining up, ready for our visit to the farm, so I’d better go. Can’t risk them laughing and joking; it might upset the neighbours.’ He winked. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  Sarah smiled as the door closed behind him, then opened the heavy ledger. If the local authority wanted audited accounts then they would have them, she thought, losing herself in the columns of figures. She was frowning over a faded invoice when she heard voices followed by the front door opening. Going to investigate, she found Maisie and Monday, rags in hand, standing on the front doorstep.

  ‘Hello, girls, what are you up to?’ she asked.

  Maisie glanced at Monday then puffed out her little chest. ‘Mrs Daws give us a very ’portant job to do, ain’t she, Monday?’ The little girl nodded and surveyed Sarah with her periwinkle eyes.

  ‘Really? And what might that be?’ Sarah asked, although the rags and polish gave her a good idea.

  ‘We’s to rub the doorknob and letterbox until they sparkle ’cos we’s too little to learn about seeds in mummies’ tummies,’ she beamed. ‘She said we was ’spons’ble girls and she nos we won’t go no further than the step, didn’t she, Monday?’ Again the girl nodded.

  ‘Well, that is an important job, girls, and it will make the front door look much smarter,’ Sarah smiled. ‘If anyone comes to call, I’ll be in my office.’

  Maisie shook her head. ‘They gotta get past Pip first.’

  ‘Of course they have. Silly me,’ Sarah replied.

  ‘Yeah, you gotta fink, miss,’ Maisie replied, tapping the side of her head with her finger. She looked so serious, Sarah had to smother a giggle. The children at Red Cliffs were priceless, she thought, returning to her work with renewed determination. If Smarty Pants Christian Lawrence hoped to have them evicted, he was in for a fight.

  She worked on until the room grew cold and long shadows crept into the corne
rs. The empty fireplace stood testament to the state of the school’s finances; Sarah could only imagine the warm glow of coals in the grate. Stretching her stiff back, she made her way along the hallway.

  ‘Guess what, miss?’ Edith asked as she entered the inviting warmth of the kitchen.

  ‘You’ve promised to do all the washing-up by yourself?’ Sarah teased.

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ the girl snorted. ‘We’ve been planting seeds in pots, and Mrs Daws has told us about how things grow.’

  ‘Yes,’ Maggie cut in. ‘If you plant carrot seeds you’s goin’ to get carrots, ain’t you?’

  ‘Er, yes,’ Sarah frowned, staring askance at Mrs Daws. The housekeeper merely grinned back.

  ‘Well, that’s how stupid old Lettuce Leaf is,’ Maggie snorted.

  ‘Stands to reason rabbits ain’t goin’ to make no little baby boys, are they?’ Ellen said, staring seriously at Sarah.

  ‘No, of course they’re not,’ she agreed.

  ‘You lot are just plain stupid,’ Kitty piped up, sneering at them. ‘Everyone knows that a man gets out his tadger and puts it …’

  ‘Right, April,’ Mrs Daws cut in quickly. ‘Perhaps you’d like to show Kitty where she’ll be sleeping tonight. That’s if you’ve decided to stay, missy?’ she asked, giving the girl a level look.

  ‘You say I won’t be locked in?’ Kitty asked.

  ‘This isn’t a prison, Kitty. You are welcome to stay or go, the choice is yours,’ the housekeeper replied casually.

  The girl thought for a moment. ‘I’ll stay,’ she announced, as if she was doing them a favour.

  ‘Well, off you go with April, then.’

  ‘I was about to cut the bread,’ April pointed out.

  ‘I’ll do that,’ Sarah said, smiling at her.

  As soon as they’d left the room, Mrs Daws shook her head. ‘What that girl knows is fearful for someone of her tender years. She’s had a right time of it from what I can make out, and as for those marks on her back, well, Dr Hawkins is calling by after supper to look at them and …’

  ‘What’s a tadger, Mrs Daws?’ Edith interrupted.

  ‘That’s enough questions for one day. If we don’t hurry and stir this into the mixture, we’ll have no cake to offer the vicar tomorrow, will we?’ Mrs Daws pointed out.

  ‘We can tell him how babies get into their mummies’ tummies, can’t we?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘Erm, I don’t think the vicar knows much about babies, Maggie,’ Mrs Daws said quickly.

  ‘You’re telling me, he nearly dropped Billy in the bont,’ she sniggered.

  ‘Font, Maggie, the word is font,’ the housekeeper corrected her.

  ‘Well, whatever it was, he still nearly drowned the poor little blighter.’

  Just then, a noise in the yard heralded the return of the boys. The door opened, and Harry appeared carrying a basket of eggs.

  ‘Bess sent these, Mrs Daws. The boys are excited because Jim was so pleased with the way they tidied his barn and outbuildings, he promised they could help him plant his seeds when the weather warms up again.’

  Mrs Daws snorted. ‘The eggs are most welcome but don’t you speak to me about seeds,’ she muttered, Harry raised a brow at Sarah who was trying to smother a grin.

  ‘Right, girls, supper’s almost ready, so go and rinse your hands,’ she ordered, picking up the eggs to take to the pantry.

  As the girls clamoured towards the open door, Harry turned to Sarah.

  ‘Did I say something to upset Mrs Daws?’

  Sarah smiled. ‘Not really. She’s just spent the afternoon teaching the girls how babies get inside their mother. She was using seeds as an example,’ she said, pointing to the rows of flowerpots on the windowsill. Did you know, if you plant carrot seeds you’ll get carrots growing?’ she spluttered. Harry frowned, clearly thinking Sarah had been overdoing things.

  ‘Kitty, the new girl, tried to share her knowledge of a man’s, erm, anatomy,’ she stuttered, her cheeks going hot. ‘I think it all got a bit much for Mrs Daws.’

  ‘This Kitty sounds rather worldly wise,’ he frowned.

  ‘She is, Master Higgins,’ Mrs Daws sighed, coming back into the room and giving the big pot a stir. ‘This rabbit stew’s about done, so if you’ve finished cutting the bread, you can sound the gong, Miss Sullivan. I can’t be doing with Maisie’s bashing and banging this evening.’

  Sarah gently sounded the gong and then stood back as the stampede began. Kitty pelted down the corridor, pushing past in her haste.

  ‘Hey, missie, that’s no way to behave,’ April called, following behind. ‘Oh, I’ll finish cutting the bread,’ she added, staring at the half-empty plates on the scrubbed table.

  Sarah frowned. ‘But I know I cut enough slices,’ she replied.

  ‘Well, there’s only enough to feed half of them,’ April pointed out.

  Harry stared thoughtfully at the children filing into the dining room then strode purposefully after them.

  Supper finished, the children set to clearing away and tidying up before their bath. Sarah and Harry took their tea through to the office. Harry lit the lamps, and as their soft glow lit up the room, Sarah sank into her chair.

  ‘Goodness, those children can certainly eat,’ she said.

  ‘Hmm. I was certain it was Bunter who’d taken those slices of bread, but I couldn’t see any sign. Unless the little blighter had already eaten the evidence, of course,’ he raised his brows.

  ‘Well, it was only a few slices, I suppose,’ Sarah replied with a shrug.

  ‘That’s not the point, I’m afraid, Sarah. We are here to teach the children right from wrong and cannot allow thieving in any shape or form.’

  He looked so sternly at her, Sarah felt as if she’d been caught red-handed herself and quickly opened the ledger she’d been working on earlier.

  ‘Right,’ Harry said, taking out his pocket watch. ‘Dr Hawkins is examining Kitty and all the others after their baths so we probably have a couple of hours.’

  ‘I’ve entered the outstanding invoices I managed to decipher up until October when …’ She paused as a rush of emotion threatened to overwhelm her. ‘When my godfather passed away,’ she finished. ‘However, there are so many papers and forms that are either half completed or require signature. Poor Uncle; it wasn’t his fault. He can’t really have known he was dying,’ she whispered.

  ‘He knew, Sarah,’ Harry said gently. ‘He just wasn’t expecting it to be so soon,’ he said, briskly. She nodded, remembering then that Mr Fothergill had said the same.

  They worked easily together, with Harry reading out the amounts and Sarah entering them in the ledger. Then, as Harry passed her the papers to file, she couldn’t help noticing his long, artistic fingers. On one occasion, their hands touched, and she felt a delicious tingling sensation shoot up her arm. He must have felt something too because his hand lingered and his glance caught hers, before he quickly looked back down at the papers.

  ‘Getting there,’ was all he said, much to Sarah’s disappointment. She watched as he concentrated on deciphering the scribble of figures, fascinated by the way his hair flopped over his eyes whenever he leaned forward. Finally, he leaned back in his seat and rubbed his forehead.

  ‘Right, that’s enough for tonight. If we make a concerted effort tomorrow after luncheon has been cleared away and the Sunday waifs dispatched back to town, we should have this little lot in a passable state for the accountants to do their stuff. Of course, those will have to wait,’ he added, gesturing to the boxes under the window.

  ‘I can start working my way through them on Monday,’ Sarah said.

  Harry shook his head. ‘You won’t have time for that, I’m afraid. You need to spend a period in the classroom, see what the children are learning and the methods we use here. The inspector is bound to ask questions, and you need to be prepared. It will also be beneficial for you to sit in on a couple of Miss Green’s lessons.’

  Sarah nodded. ‘After she disobey
ed my instruction, I fully intend to make sure she shows the girls how to make their aprons,’ she said, thinking of all the other things she wanted to say to the woman. ‘Do you know, she called April sinister because she uses her left hand? I mean …’ Her voice trailed off as Harry shook his head impatiently.

  ‘I think April meant sinistral, Sarah. It means relating to the left side of the body, while sinistrality refers to someone with a preference for using the left hand.’

  ‘Oh,’ Sarah muttered, wondering how he knew so much.

  ‘Be careful, Sarah. Mr Lawrence is hell-bent on getting Red Cliffs closed down and will plumb the depths to do so. I hear he has recently made it his business to befriend Miss Green, and she has been seen walking out with him.’

  The unlikely image of debonair Christian Lawrence with the skinny, crow-featured Miss Green on his arm made Sarah want to laugh. Then she saw Harry’s bleak expression and realized he was telling the truth.

  24

  Christian glanced at the scrawny, shrew-like woman sitting opposite him and was glad he’d chosen an eating place away from his usual haunts. It would do his reputation as the suave, debonair man-about-town no good to be seen with someone as plain as her. Still, needs must, and the stakes were high, he reminded himself.

  ‘So, tell me, Letticia,’ he grinned, turning on his naughty-little-boy look. ‘Forgive me; that was presumptuous of me. May I call you by your first name? It is so pretty.’

  ‘Why, thank you,’ she simpered. ‘Of course you may and I shall call you Christian.’ She fluttered her lashes at him, reminding Christian of the spider he’d squashed earlier. ‘I’ve never been here before,’ she said, looking around. ‘Of course, Father was a little put out that you didn’t call for me, but I assured him you would next time.’

  Next time? Christian thought. Over his dead body! Then he remembered why he’d invited the woman here, and smiled as amenably as he could. Thankfully, he didn’t need to answer because she was only halfway through her tale.

  ‘I told him it was because you were a very busy man. What exactly is it you do for a living?’ She leaned forward in her seat, scrutinizing him with eyes he couldn’t quite determine the colour of.