Monday's Child

by Linda Finlay

  ‘Did she?’ Sarah asked softly.

  Monday nodded, then went back to stroking the cat. ‘She gave me milk most of the time, though, ’cos she said it would make me strong. If we was short, she drank her tea black. Said it would put hairs on her chest but I never saw any.’ The girl cuddled the cat tighter and its contented purring filled the room.

  ‘You must miss her, dearie,’ Mrs Daws said gently.

  ‘Yes,’ the little girl sighed. ‘She was my friend. Still, I got Maisie now.’

  ‘Indeed you have, young lady. And if you don’t hurry upstairs and get dressed, she’ll think you’ve gone to London to see the Queen,’ the housekeeper told her.

  Monday giggled, kissed the cat’s head then put him gently on the floor. ‘Ginger says it’s time he scarpered anyway ’cos the others will be down soon,’ she replied.

  ‘I can’t believe how matter of fact she is,’ Sarah commented, watching as the little girl skipped out of the room.

  ‘Children are more resilient than you think, although who knows what will happen when her father turns up. Sometimes it’s the familiar that triggers a memory. Now, let’s drink our tea, then we’d better make a start on the porridge.’

  ‘Good morning, ladies,’ Harry said, diving in through the back door and shaking himself on the mat like a drenched dog. ‘It’s raining yet again,’ he sighed, walking over to the range and holding his hands out to warm. He darted Sarah a tender look, and remembering the previous evening, she smiled and turned away before the housekeeper noticed.

  ‘I see you’ve fed old Marmalade already, Mrs Daws. That cat’s getting as portly as Sergeant Watts,’ he teased.

  ‘You can blame Monday, Master Higgins. She slips down here first thing before the others wake and makes a right old fuss of him. He loves it, of course, don’t you, old boy?’ she crooned. Harry winked at Sarah, and despite herself, she found her pulse racing.

  ‘Monday mentioned her mother this morning,’ Sarah smiled.

  ‘Well, that’s a healthy sign. Perhaps I’ll encourage her to draw a picture of the woman to help with her memories,’ he mused. ‘And talking of mothers, I mentioned the sewing bee to mine last night and she seemed really interested. In fact, she even intimated she would like to help.’

  ‘That would be good for her, Master Higgins,’ Mrs Daws commented. ‘She always were beautiful at stitchery.’

  ‘It’s the first time I’ve seen her animated since Father died,’ he agreed. ‘Anyway, Miss Sullivan, when I told her you intended calling on Mrs Knight this morning, she said she might pay a visit herself. I’ve a feeling it might be you Mother wants to see, though,’ he admitted, a flush creeping up his cheeks.

  ‘Really?’ she replied, staring at him in surprise. ‘Why?’

  ‘Apparently, I’ve spoken so much about you, she’d like to meet you. Mothers, eh, Mrs Daws?’ he grimaced.

  ‘I wouldn’t know, Master Higgins, being as how I never had one myself. Well, I mean, obviously someone birthed me, but whoever that were saw fit to leave me in a box on the orphanage bins.’

  ‘Oh, Mrs Daws, I’m so sorry. I had no idea,’ Sarah cried, staring at the woman in horror.

  ‘No reason why you should. It were a long time ago, obviously,’ she sighed, thumping the lump of dough vigorously. Sarah couldn’t help thinking of her own mother. She might have been taken from her early but at least Sarah had known she was loved.

  ‘Well, the children here are lucky to have you,’ Sarah said, patting the housekeeper’s shoulder.

  ‘Somebody’s got to keep them in line,’ the woman replied brusquely, but Sarah could tell she was pleased.

  ‘I suppose this weather means the children will be confined to barracks,’ Harry sighed.

  ‘Well, if they can’t go outside for their exercise, they can get it by cleaning and polishing the house,’ Mrs Daws chuckled, having recovered her composure. ‘It’s an ill wind, as they say, or in this case a black cloud. Tea, Master Higgins?’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Daws. Why don’t you get Pip to run you around to Mrs Knight’s in the trap, Miss Sullivan?’ he suggested. ‘You really shouldn’t be walking the streets by yourself.’

  ‘Why ever not? We are in the twentieth century now, Master Higgins,’ she retorted. Then, seeing him flinch, she could have cut out her tongue. ‘Although it was a kind thought, thank you,’ she smiled. ‘Well, if I’m to meet your mother, I’d better find something smarter than this to wear,’ she added, grimacing down at the old dress she’d donned first thing.

  ‘There’s still some nice bits and pieces in the front room, but make sure you have a bite to eat before you go out, Miss Sullivan,’ said Mrs Daws. ‘There’s hardly anything of you as there is.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ Harry replied with a grin, his good mood obviously restored. ‘I gather Dr Hawkins is happy with young Luke’s progress, so I’ll introduce him to the rigours of the schoolroom after breakfast.’

  *

  Although Mrs Daws had set the children the task of cleaning and polishing the house, it was evident that their labour hadn’t tired them out, for they exuberantly pushed and jostled their way into the schoolroom. Harry groaned, knowing his patience would be tested to the limits.

  ‘Single file, you heathens,’ he roared, staring at them sternly.

  ‘Coo, that fire’s ’alf decent, sir. I can even feel a bit of heat,’ Bunter called, pointing to the coals that were glowing brilliantly in the grate. Luckily, the black metal guard was securely fixed in front of it and Harry silently thanked Pip for the meticulous way he carried out his duties.

  ‘It is indeed, Bunter, which means your brain will be warm enough to start ticking this morning. Right, young Luke, I understand that you are five years old?’ he said, consulting the record card he’d made out when the boy had arrived at Red Cliffs. Luke gripped his sister’s hand tighter and nodded. ‘Then you will sit here alongside Maisie and Monday for your lessons.’

  ‘But them’s girls,’ he complained.

  ‘He’s quick,’ Edith chortled.

  Harry opened his mouth to respond but Kitty was already giving her the evil eye. She put her arm around the young boy’s shoulders.

  ‘Now, Luke, you bin given the chance of a decent education so you got to make the most of it,’ Kitty told her brother. ‘Then you’ll get a good job and make sumfink of yourself. I’ll go and sit with Edith over there so I’ll only be just behind you, right?’ The boy nodded and sat in the seat Harry indicated.

  ‘Good morning, everyone,’ he began.

  ‘Good morning, Master Higgins,’ the class responded.

  ‘Why does we have to say good morning when we saw you at breakfast?’ Kitty asked.

  ‘Because it signals the beginning of lessons,’ Harry told her. ‘Now, whilst I settle young Luke into our regime, please get out your name cards and copy the letters onto your slates in your best writing.’ After much rustling and scraping, the children finally settled down to do as he asked.

  ‘Now, Luke,’ he said, hunkering down beside the boy. ‘Have you been to school before?’ The lad shook his head. ‘Do you know how to write on a slate?’ At this, the boy smiled and nodded. ‘Good, now watch carefully as I write the letters of your name so you can copy.’ As Luke concentrated, tongue between his teeth, Harry let out a sigh of relief. If the boy was willing to learn it would certainly make his job easier.

  ‘That’s it, Luke. If you carry on like this you’ll be a star pupil,’ he encouraged. Distracted by a noise at the back of the room, he looked up to see two boys staring out of the window.

  ‘Black, Brown, sit down,’ he roared.

  ‘Hey, sir, that rhymes,’ Maggie chuckled.

  ‘He’s a poet and he don’t know it,’ Edith laughed.

  ‘Enough,’ Harry bellowed.

  ‘But, sir,’ Black began.

  ‘Don’t give me cause to get out the tawse,’ Harry muttered, only too aware that he’d rhymed his words again. ‘Brown, are you going to sit d
own or …’

  ‘There’s a big man trying to get in the school gates but Pip won’t let him in,’ the boy persisted.

  Harry hurried over to look and saw Pip shaking his head at a burly man wearing a well-worn blue serge suit and a vest that may once have been white.

  ‘Right, Kitty and Edith, you are in charge whilst I go and see what that man wants,’ Harry stated. ‘Continue with your writing, please. Any mischief and there will be trouble.’

  ‘There won’t be, sir,’ Kitty declared. ‘An’ I won’t need that whip eiver.’

  Head down against the rain that was still falling from the leaden sky, Harry hurried outside. As he neared the gates, he could hear Pip saying, ‘I know all the children, sir, and I can assure you there is nobody here by that name.’

  ‘But Sergeant Watts said she’d been brought here,’ the man insisted.

  Closer up, Harry could see that, although the man was unkempt and unshaven, he wasn’t some thug as he’d feared.

  ‘Can I help you, sir?’ he asked. ‘I’m Harry Higgins, the schoolmaster.’

  ‘The name’s Denis Collyer, serving in the Merchant. I was explaining to this young man here that Sergeant Watts told me my daughter Violet Collyer’s here.’

  Harry frowned. ‘Oh, you must mean Monday,’ he cried, realization dawning. ‘Let the gentleman in, please, Pip.’

  ‘Right you are, Master Higgins,’ he replied, swinging the gates open. ‘I never thought he meant Monday, sir.’

  ‘You were quite right to be cautious, Pip, thank you,’ he told the anxious boy. ‘Come indoors out of the rain, Mr Collyer,’ he invited and set off at a brisk pace up the driveway. ‘You must understand that Pip was only doing his job. It is our responsibility to ensure the safety of all our pupils.’

  ‘It’s good to know my Violet’s been kept safe,’ he replied. From the desolation in the man’s eyes, Harry could tell he had only just found out about his wife’s death.

  Having dressed carefully in the coat she’d borrowed, Sarah was standing in the hallway, checking her reflection before going out. She had added a hat for good measure. It didn’t quite match her outfit but at least she looked respectable, she thought. As she lifted her hand to the latch, the door opened. Harry was standing on the step, a broad-shouldered man beside him.

  ‘Miss Sullivan, this is Mr Collyer, Monday’s father,’ Harry announced.

  ‘Mr Collyer, do come in out of this dreadful weather,’ she invited.

  ‘Morning, ma’am,’ he said, doffing his cap. ‘I’m looking for the owner.’

  ‘And you’ve found her. Do come through to my office, there’s a fire in there,’ she said, eying his clothes, which were dripping rain onto the parquet flooring the children had earlier polished. He had removed his cap and was twisting it around and around in his big, blackened hands as he followed her into the room. She gestured to a chair and he sank into it as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

  ‘I’ve just found out about my Holly,’ he murmured and Sarah could see him struggling with his emotions.

  ‘Please accept our deepest condolences, Mr Collyer,’ she said. He nodded.

  ‘I’ve left the class in Kitty’s hands, Miss Sullivan. I need to check on them, so would you like me to bring Monday in when I return?’

  ‘If you would, Master Higgins, and could you ask Mrs Daws for some tea on your way?’

  Harry nodded. ‘I won’t be long,’ he assured her.

  ‘She were the world to me, my Hol,’ the man croaked. ‘Then when Violet came along she just added to our joy. ’Cors, being in the Merchant, I’m away a lot but I always had them to come home to.’ His eyes filled with tears and Sarah looked away tactfully as he dashed them off with the cuff of his sleeve.

  ‘It must have been a terrible shock,’ she murmured.

  ‘Still trying to take it in. The sergeant was waiting as soon as the ship docked,’ he sighed. ‘How could that woman have been so heartless as to throw my girls out on the street and with Hol expectin’ an all?’ He shook his head.

  ‘Monday, or rather, Violet, has been well looked after, Mr Collyer,’ she assured him. ‘Unfortunately, the shock of the … er, accident, left your daughter unable to speak for a while. She’s fine now,’ she hastened to assure him as concern sparked in his eyes. ‘Anyway, as she was unable to tell us her name, we called her Monday after the day of the week she was brought here.’

  ‘I’m right obliged to you for caring for her,’ he replied. ‘Well, it’ll be up to me to look out for her now.’ He came to a halt as Mrs Daws came bustling in with a tray of tea.

  ‘You poor man,’ she crooned. ‘A terrible business and no mistake. Here, I’ve added extra sugar. It’s good for the shock.’

  He seemed to find a measure of comfort in the woman’s fussing, for he smiled weakly. ‘That’s mighty kind, ma’am.’

  ‘Not at all. She’s a right bonny lass, your Monday,’ she added. ‘Now, I’ve promised Master Higgins I’ll look after the class while he brings her over, so I’d better trot along.’

  ‘What a caring woman,’ he murmured as the door shut behind the housekeeper. ‘You all have been really kind.’ He shuddered to a halt. ‘Forgive me,’ he whispered, ‘it’s all come as a terrible shock. I was looking forward to seeing Hol …’ As his voice trailed away, Sarah pushed his cup towards him.

  ‘Have a drink,’ she urged softly, not knowing what else to say to the broken man before her. As the fire shifted and settled lower in the grate, Sarah went over and added more coal, glad of the excuse of something to do.

  Then the door opened and Harry came in, Monday tightly clutching his hand. She stood for a moment, staring at the burly man, before running over to him and throwing herself into his arms.

  ‘Dadda,’ she cried. ‘Have you brought me anything?’

  31

  Sarah stared at Harry, not knowing whether to laugh or cry at the girl’s reaction. Although he grinned ruefully, she could see he was touched by the emotional reunion, for the bereft Mr Collyer was hugging his daughter as though he’d never let her go.

  ‘Well, that’s a fine question to ask your poor father after he’s been away at sea for so long,’ he said, forcing a smile as he ruffled the girl’s hair.

  ‘You always brings me back a present, don’t you, Dadda?’ Monday replied.

  ‘Yes, I do, pet,’ Mr Collyer admitted, tears still flowing freely down his cheeks. ‘But I was so keen to see you, I left it on the ship.’

  ‘We can go and get it after school,’ the girl replied, her eyes shining with excitement. ‘Can Maisie come with me, ’cos she’s my best friend?’ Then she frowned. ‘Why are you crying?’ she asked, reaching up and wiping the wetness away. ‘I suppose I’ll have to look after you now Mamma has gone to be an angel in heaven,’ she told him.

  He stared at her for a moment then cleared his throat. ‘An angel in heaven?’ he whispered.

  Monday looked at him sagely. ‘The nice man with the white hair told me that.’

  Mr Collyer looked enquiringly at Sarah.

  ‘I think she’s referring to my godfather, Dr Lawrence.’

  Monday nodded. ‘He told me Mamma wouldn’t want us to be sad and one day when our bodies was tired, we’d see her again. Dr Lawrence has gone to be an angel too, so I expec’ he’s looking after her ’til you get there, Dadda.’

  ‘Oh, Violet,’ the man’s voice cracked and he dashed impatiently at his tears.

  ‘No, Dadda, I called Monday now,’ she told him proudly.

  Sarah opened her mouth to correct her, but Harry shook his head.

  ‘It’s for them to sort out,’ he whispered, then addressed the man. ‘The police managed to locate your wife’s … I mean, Monday’s grandparents.’

  Mr Collyer’s face contorted in pain. ‘I bet they blamed me for everything,’ he said bitterly. ‘I’m not one of them, you see, and …’ His voice trailed away.

  ‘Don’t concern yourself, Mr Collyer, we got the gist from Mada
m Rosa when she called here,’ Sarah told him.

  His bushy brows narrowed into a dark line. ‘Madam Rosa, indeed,’ he snorted. ‘I’m surprised she didn’t offer Violet a home in that fancy vardo of hers. She didn’t, did she?’ he asked anxiously. Remembering the ugly scene played out in this very room, Sarah looked awkwardly at Harry, but before he could reply, Monday was tugging at her father’s hand.

  ‘I told you, Dadda, I Monday now,’ she said, wriggling down from her father’s lap. ‘I wants to go back to class and see Maisie,’ she told Harry.

  ‘I think that might be a good idea, Mr Collyer. Then we can discuss your daughter’s future in private,’ he replied.

  ‘What’s to discuss? She’ll be coming with me,’ the man replied quickly. Sarah’s heart sank like a stone. Then she felt ashamed of herself. Of course Monday should be with her father. But it seemed the little girl had her own ideas.

  ‘Maisie will be waiting for me, Dadda,’ Monday told him. ‘And Kitty says we gotta have an edu … edicatin,’ she added, staring at him so seriously her periwinkle eyes turned the violet of her given name. ‘I gotta learn so I gets on in life, see.’

  Impressed by the little girl’s determination, Harry’s lips lifted at the corners, although he tried valiantly to suppress his grin. Perhaps his teaching hadn’t been in vain. ‘It might be best, Mr Collyer,’ he said gently. ‘Perhaps just for the rest of the morning?’

  The man looked from Harry to his daughter and sighed. ‘You’re a right little bossy boots, just like your mother,’ he told her. ‘I guess we do have things to discuss, Miss Sullivan, so perhaps Monday should go back to her lessons.’

  ‘I need to return, anyway, before the children run poor Mrs Daws ragged,’ Harry pointed out. ‘Come along, young Monday. Say goodbye to your father. You can see him at luncheon. Knowing our housekeeper, she will insist on you eating something before you leave, Mr Collyer.’

  ‘You can see Maisie then, Dadda,’ Monday said, giving him a dazzling smile. ‘And I is glad you back.’

  As the man gave a wobbly smile in response, Sarah turned to Harry. ‘Perhaps you could ask Mrs Daws to bring us some fresh tea?’