by Linda Finlay
‘Don’t worry about them, Miss Sullivan,’ Mrs Knight said, following her glance. ‘Everything’s fine as long it is their idea. They consider themselves pillars of the community and hate to feel excluded.’
‘Oh, I didn’t realize,’ Sarah muttered.
‘Now, let’s talk business. I quite agree the girls should raise funds too and would like to help. My husband, God bless him, was proprietor of a General Draper and Milliner’s shop in the town until his death.’ As Sarah went to voice her sympathy, the woman held up her hand. ‘It was a while ago now, and whilst I still miss him, life has to go on. Anyway, I managed to carry on running the business until last year when my rheumatics took a turn for the worse. I sold the shop to a Mr Day, would you believe,’ she chuckled.
Sarah frowned. ‘Oh, I see, Knight into Day,’ she smiled, as the penny dropped.
‘However, I still have a few bales of brightly coloured material along with boxes of trimmings languishing in my spare room at home. It would give me great pleasure to know they were being put to good use.’
‘You mean you’d let the school buy them from you?’ Sarah asked.
‘Buy them? Good heavens, no, my dear. You are welcome to have them.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Mrs Knight, but we couldn’t just take them. The ethos of Red Cliffs requires things to be earned.’
‘Well, my dear, in that case you could say that Dr Lawrence more than earned the little I am offering. He was so kind when my George was ill, coming out at all hours even though he was busy with the school. Sadly, as he is now deceased himself, I can’t pay that debt back. However, I can carry it forward, can’t I?’
As the woman’s clear grey eyes stared hopefully at her, Sarah found herself nodding. ‘Thank you so much, Mrs Knight. Red Cliffs would be honoured to accept your kind gift.’
‘Good, that’s settled then. I understand from Jack that he lunches at Red Cliffs on a Sunday, so he can collect the things when he takes me home. He might have to make a few trips, but something tells me he would welcome the opportunity.’ Mrs Knight laughed and gave Sarah the most outrageous wink. ‘Now, I’ve kept you long enough,’ she added, waving to Jack who immediately hurried over.
‘I’ll see you later, Miss Sullivan,’ he beamed.
‘Yes, you will, Jack. Thank you once again, Mrs Knight. I do hope you will visit the school to see how the girls are getting on with their sewing. Oh …’ She stuttered to a halt as she remembered the woman was obviously an invalid.
‘I’m not housebound, my dear, and I would love to visit. Now, come along, Jack. I’m ready for my luncheon.’
With another smile at Sarah, Jack began solicitously covering the woman with her blanket.
Pulling her shawl tighter against the brisk sea breeze, Sarah hurried back to Red Cliffs. How kind of Mrs Knight to let them have material, she thought, her brain buzzing with ideas for things the girls could make. She was impatient to share the news with them, but when she let herself into the house, the usual hectic round of dishing up of the Sunday lunches was already under way.
She watched the pupils serving meals to those children less fortunate than themselves and couldn’t help marvelling once again at how insightful her godfather had been in setting up the school the way he had. The fragrant aroma of savoury stew made her stomach growl, and she was just about to comment when she saw the housekeeper scratching her head.
‘Well, blow me, Miss Sullivan,’ Mrs Daws said, pointing to the empty plate on the table. ‘Knowing we were a bit short on bread, I specifically counted the number of slices I cut. April and Pip handed out the children’s, but the slice I left here for you has disappeared.’
‘Never mind, Mrs Daws, some of your delicious stew will suffice,’ Sarah assured her, but the woman was not to be mollified.
‘I’m happy to share what little we have, but will not tolerate stealing,’ the housekeeper declared hotly.
‘Perhaps there are more waifs here today than usual,’ Sarah suggested.
‘Pip did a head count for me. This is becoming a regular occurrence. Master Higgins thought it was Bunter but I’m not so sure,’ the woman replied, sinking onto the chair next to Sarah. ‘Between you and me, I’ve a feeling it’s something to do with that Kitty. This began when she arrived, and April said she heard her slipping out of the dormitory during the night. Now, we have an open door policy, as you know, but it isn’t natural or safe for a child to go wandering in the dark, and April said she was gone too long to have just slipped down to the privy.’
‘She is getting enough to eat?’ Sarah asked, remembering her godfather saying how starved some of the children were when they first arrived.
‘I should say. I even did dumplings last night. No, I’ve a feeling something’s not right. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but I will,’ she sighed.
‘Did you find out about those marks on her back?’ Sarah asked.
The housekeeper pursed her lips. ‘Dr Hawkins reckoned she’d been lashed with a whip. Can you believe?’
‘But that’s terrible. Surely it wasn’t her father?’ Sarah gasped.
‘No. When we had a little chat, she let on her father had died, and they’d had to move from the farm he tenanted somewhere near Dartmoor. Anyway, it seems her mother met a man who had no time for children and they both scarpered, leaving Kitty to fend for herself. Apparently a “gentleman” befriended her and set her to work thieving for him. On a good day, he’d feed her, but if her pickings weren’t enough … well, you can imagine,’ she sighed, getting to her feet.
‘Poor girl, no wonder she’s so worldly wise,’ Sarah replied, thinking of the discussion the previous afternoon. ‘We’ll have to make her feel loved, give her cuddles, that sort of thing.’
‘You’ve more chance of petting a wild dog,’ Mrs Daws snorted. ‘Now, I’d best take this pudding into the front room. Master Higgins was going to tell the vicar about the inspection over luncheon, so I thought it best they ate in there away from prying ears. I can’t believe the things that Christian’s accused Red Cliffs of. He was always such a nice little boy.’
‘According to the master, he’s walking out with Miss Green,’ Sarah replied, not wishing to dwell on the past.
‘Well, she’d better be careful, that’s all I can say. Mind you, they’re both conniving rats, so happen they deserve each other.’
As Sarah stared at the woman in surprise, the waifs began streaming out of the dining room.
‘Fanks, missus,’ one little lad chirped.
‘Yeah, good grub,’ another said.
‘Well, that’s the first sitting finished. Oh no, my poor head,’ Mrs Daws groaned as Maisie began banging the gong with all her might. ‘April will be supervising the girls, so can you dish your own stew?’
Sarah nodded. ‘That’s fine, Mrs Daws. I’m sorry I was late back, but the verger introduced me to Mrs Knight. She kindly offered us material and trimmings left from the sale of her shop.’
‘Dorothy Knight, you were saying? Now there’s a lovely woman,’ Mrs Daws began, then broke off as Kitty came barging through the door. ‘Hey, where’ve you been?’
‘The privy,’ she replied. Mrs Daws raised her brows, but Sarah noticed the little girl looked flushed and was breathing heavily.
‘Well, enjoy your stew, Miss Sullivan, and I should have a rest while you’re at it. I hear from Master Higgins that you’ve another evening of bookkeeping ahead.’
Sarah groaned. ‘Don’t remind me. It’s good of him to help, though, especially as he can decipher the figures better than I can.’
By the time Sarah had finished her meal, the pupils were filing out of the dining room. Leaving them to clear away the dirty dishes, she went through to the office, ready to tackle the dreaded paperwork. Opening the door, she blinked in surprise, for spread out across her desk were bales of crisp gingham in the most beautiful reds, blues, greens and yellows. Perfect for aprons, Sarah thought, running her fingers over the material. There was also a ca
rton of matching silks and buttons. A sudden thud in the corridor roused her from her musing. Jack staggered into the room, his head just discernible over a pile of boxes.
‘Goodness, let me help you,’ Sarah said, taking the top two from him.
‘Thanks,’ he puffed. ‘I thought I’d manage these in one trip, as Mrs Knight always has a sleep after her luncheon, and I know you want to get started on the things for the Christmas Fayre.’ He offloaded the rest of the boxes then gave her a dazzling smile. ‘She has had a simply marvellous idea and wonders if she might take up your kind invitation to visit. Would tomorrow afternoon be convenient?’
‘Well, yes, if she could make it about one o’clock, I’ll see if I can get Pip to collect her,’ Sarah said.
‘No need,’ he beamed. ‘It’s my afternoon for visiting the almshouses, so I can drop her off en route,’ he explained.
‘Perfect. I appreciate you dropping these materials in, Jack,’ she began, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. ‘Goodness, it’s as busy as the railway station,’ she exclaimed. ‘Come in.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy, Miss Sullivan,’ Harry Higgins said. ‘I can come back later.’
‘No need, I’m just going,’ Jack said, bounding towards the door. ‘Until tomorrow afternoon then, Miss Sullivan, er, Sarah,’ he added. With a final smile, he disappeared.
‘He made it sound as if you have a date, Miss Sullivan,’ Harry said, quirking a brow. Seeing his solemn expression, Sarah was tempted to tease him but thought better of it.
‘Mrs Knight, who used to have a draper’s shop, has given us these beautiful materials for the girls to make things for the Fayre,’ she explained, gesturing to the bales on her desk. ‘I invited her to visit the school, and Jack has kindly offered to bring her tomorrow afternoon, as she uses a Bath chair.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Harry replied, looking decidedly relieved. ‘My mother used to sew, before Father died.’ His face clouded for a moment. ‘She’d love these bright colours.’
‘Well, you can buy her one of the aprons we’ll be making. It’ll make an ideal Christmas present.’
‘Don’t talk of Christmas yet, please,’ he groaned. ‘Pip is doing a splendid job helping the boys with their woodworking projects but some of their results look rather odd to say the least.’
Sarah laughed. ‘I have no idea how the girls’ sewing will turn out. I know April will help but I’ve still got to get Miss Green to co-operate.’
‘Please be tactful, Sarah. Whilst I don’t agree with her methods, with this inspection looming we do need her on our side. And that brings me to Monday. As she’s still not speaking, I called in to see the Deaconess earlier. She has a vacancy and will be happy to take the little girl as of this week.’
‘So soon?’ Sarah gasped, her heart sinking. ‘Couldn’t we give her a little more time?’
He gave her a sympathetic look, but shook his head. ‘We have to think of Monday’s welfare, Sarah, and we are not doing her any favours by delaying things, are we?’
26
Sarah hardly slept that night. The room was bitterly cold, with wind rattling the windowpanes and soughing down the chimney. She still felt uncomfortable being in her godfather’s room, but Sarah knew Mrs Daws had been delighted to have her bedroom to herself again, so she hadn’t mentioned her unease. While she should have been happy that, after a long evening working with Harry, the books were finally ready for the accountants to audit, she couldn’t get Monday out of her mind. If only she could have spent more time with the little girl, perhaps it would have made a difference. She knew in her heart of hearts that Harry was right when he said they had to do what was in the child’s best interest, but the thought of not seeing her dear little face each day cut through Sarah keener than the hooley raging outside.
She must have dozed off because the creak of the floorboard on the landing woke her. Knowing that Mrs Daws always made an early start, Sarah dressed quickly then stole down the stairs. The range in the kitchen was ablaze, its welcome warmth emanating around the room, whilst the kettle was on the hob to boil the first brew of the day. Marmalade, curled up on the chair, opened one eye, ascertained Sarah posed no threat, then promptly went back to sleep again.
‘You’re up even earlier than usual, Miss Sullivan,’ the housekeeper said, hurrying through from the pantry and bringing with her a blast of cold air. Sarah could see the woman was looking disgruntled and wondered if she was put out at having her early morning peace invaded.
‘Good morning, Mrs Daws. Is everything all right?’
‘I don’t know what this place is coming to, and that’s a fact. This cheese is half the size it was when I put it away last night,’ the woman grumbled.
‘Perhaps it was mice,’ Sarah suggested.
‘Not unless they’ve learnt to use a blinkin’ knife,’ Mrs Daws snorted, pointing to the side of the cheese, which had been cut away neatly. ‘Someone’s been taking food when my back’s turned, and I’m going to find out who it is,’ she declared. Just then the kettle gave its welcome whistle.
‘Shall I make some tea?’ Sarah asked. ‘It was so cold upstairs I’m surprised I didn’t turn to ice overnight.’
The housekeeper let out a long sigh. ‘Our coal stocks are dwindling fast. The good doctor always called November the month of mists, murk and managing. I just hope we have enough fuel to keep the range going until we get our delivery next month.’
Sarah looked up from pouring the hot water into the big brown pot. ‘Shall I ask the coal merchant if he can call earlier?’ she asked.
The housekeeper gave a snort. ‘You can ask away, Miss Sullivan, but he won’t deliver until he receives his money. Our benefactor pays for Red Cliffs to have the coal store filled in time for Christmas each year.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Sarah replied, thinking again how much she still had to learn about the running of Red Cliffs. ‘Well, here’s your tea. Now, what can I do to help? I’ve plenty of time before I have to leave for my appointment with the accountants. Which reminds me,’ she said, staring down at the worn material of her dress, ‘would it be all right to borrow something from the donation box, just for this morning,’ she added quickly as the woman gave her a funny look. ‘There’s a navy blue coat that looks quite presentable, and as I shall be representing the school, I feel it is important to look as smart as I can.’
‘This place is yours now, Miss Sullivan, so you hardly have to ask,’ Mrs Daws replied. ‘If you really want to lend a hand, you can help me knock up some bread, seeing as how we’ll have to bake extra to make up for that cheese.’
The two women stood either side of the scrubbed table, mixing dough in companionable silence. The housekeeper was still looking pale, but Sarah couldn’t determine if it was because of the theft of the cheese, the rapidly dwindling coal stocks or tiredness, for the woman did work exceedingly long hours. If only she didn’t have to go into town, she could be of more help, Sarah thought.
Then she became aware of someone creeping into the room. Looking up, she saw it was Monday. Before Sarah could ask the little girl what she was doing, the child’s eyes widened in amazement, and she made a beeline for the cat on the chair.
‘Ginger, me pussy,’ Monday cried. Sarah stared at the housekeeper in amazement, but as she opened her mouth to say something, the woman gave a slight shake of her head. ‘Oh, Ginger, I knew you’d come and find me,’ Monday murmured, picking the cat up from the chair and cuddling it tight. The look of pure happiness on her face brought tears to Sarah’s eyes, and she saw the housekeeper hastily wiping her own with the corner of her apron.
‘Well, I never,’ Mrs Daws muttered. ‘That cat has only ever let me pick him up before.’
‘Ginger’s mine, Sarah,’ Monday cried. ‘He lived with me before and must have come looking for me.’
‘But he’s …’ Sarah began just as April came hurrying into the room.
‘There you are, Monday, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,’ she exclaimed
.
‘Ginger’s come and found me,’ the girl explained, giving April a beaming smile.
‘And he’s brought your voice too by the sound of it,’ April chirped. ‘Who’d have thought it was hiding in that old moggy all along.’
‘He’s thirsty and wants milk,’ Monday announced, and to their astonishment, she placed the cat on the floor, picked up the jug and poured some of the white liquid into a saucer. ‘Here you are, Ginger,’ she crooned.
‘Well, come along, it’s time you were dressed ready for your own breakfast, young lady,’ April insisted, bustling the little girl from the room. At the door, the maid stopped and winked. ‘There’ll be no stopping this one now, you wait and see,’ she grinned.
As the door closed behind the maid, Mrs Daws shook her head. ‘I do believe she’s right, Miss Sullivan. It’s times like these that make my job worthwhile. What’s a bit of cheese compared to this? And as for you, Marmalade, if the little girl thinks you’re her Ginger who am I to disillusion her? Since when have you drunk plain old milk, eh? You usually sulk if I don’t give you the cream off the top.’ The cat looked up from the empty saucer, licked its lips and gave a contented purr.
‘Shouldn’t we have kept Monday in here with us, Mrs Daws?’ Sarah frowned.
‘Good heavens, no. It’s best she sticks to her routine. The familiarity will make her feel secure, although we’ll monitor her progress, of course. Master Higgins will be delighted. He was bereft at the thought of her having to go to the Deaconess.’
‘He was?’ Sarah asked in surprise, her heart lifting. ‘He seemed so matter-of-fact about it.’
‘That’s his way, Miss Sullivan. He always puts the interests of the children first, despite what he might be feeling in here,’ the housekeeper said, patting her chest. ‘Now, we’d best put this dough to prove or the children won’t have any lunch.’
Sarah’s meeting with the accountants went well, for she’d only had to hand over the ledgers and answer a few simple questions.