by Linda Finlay
‘Sally Jane Jefferson, miss,’ she replied in a well-modulated voice.
‘I was just explaining to Miss Sullivan that Sally is going to be staying with us for a while,’ Harry said quickly.
The housekeeper stared at him in surprise then turned back to the little girl. ‘Well, Sally Jane Jefferson, I expect you’re hungry?’
The girl smiled up at the housekeeper and nodded. ‘I haven’t had my breakfast yet because unfortunately Madam the Deaconess is ailing.’
‘Well, I’m sorry to hear that on both counts. Why don’t you come along to the kitchen with me and we’ll see what we can find?’ she invited, holding out her hand. ‘’Tis going to be a crying shame, cutting off them beautiful curls,’ she whispered as she passed.
‘But she’s such a pretty little thing, surely her head won’t have to be shorn?’ Sarah asked as the door closed behind them.
‘Rules of the house, I’m afraid, and we can’t treat anyone differently,’ Harry sighed. ‘Sorry to spring another pupil on you, but the Deaconess is very poorly indeed. She is in urgent need of an operation, then will require bed rest for some months. When she asked me if I’d take in Sally, well …’ he shrugged, ‘what could I do? The rest of her pupils are boys and are being temporarily accommodated at the orphanage. Sally, however, has a weak chest and the Deaconess didn’t feel she would be up to the more robust regime they have there.’
‘Poor Deaconess and poor Sally. She is so nicely spoken. Whatever is she doing in a home, anyway?’ Sarah asked.
‘Apparently her mother died last year and her father didn’t feel he was up to the challenge of bringing up a child alone, especially a female one who requires extra care. He pays handsomely for her keep, and the Deaconess insisted on us having this,’ he said, passing over a purse full of coins. ‘That should help swell the coffers,’ he joked, but Sarah was thinking of the little girl being passed from pillar to post.
‘Poor little thing,’ she reiterated, idly tugging at a wayward lock. Harry watched in fascination and only just stopped himself from reaching out and smoothing it back into the knot on the back of her neck. Remembering his mother’s words of the night before, he cast a surreptitious glance over Sarah’s attire and had to admit she had a point. Whilst there was no denying Sarah was a beautiful woman, her mismatched clothes didn’t inspire confidence.
‘Is something wrong?’ Sarah asked, looking so stern he almost chickened out of saying anything.
‘Mother said how pleased she was to make your acquaintance. When I told her about the deadline she offered to let Mrs Knight know this morning and, er …’
‘What?’ she said as he faltered.
‘She thought you, that is, we might benefit from new outfits for the inspection as well,’ he added quickly before his courage failed.
‘New outfits!’ she exclaimed. ‘We have a roof that is leaking, a schoolmistress who has resigned, not to mention an inspection in a few days’ time and you’re worrying about what we should wear? Ye gods, Master Higgins, just what planet are you on?’
‘I thought it was Earth, Miss Sullivan,’ he teased, then ducked as a wad of paper came flying at him. He caught it deftly then grinned as she stood there, hands on her hips, pools of red flaming her cheeks. Without thinking, he took a step closer. ‘Although last night I did wonder if I’d gone to heaven,’ he murmured.
‘Here we are, dearies, thought you could do with a nice cuppa,’ Mrs Daws said, nudging the door open with her behind and entering the room with a tray of tea. As they sprang apart, she stood staring from one to the other. ‘Well, well, well,’ she chuckled.
35
As Sarah followed Harry through to the dining room, her head was swimming with details of the strategy they’d finally begun putting together.
‘Think positive,’ Harry murmured. ‘Oh, and fish and chips,’ he added, grinning as he made his way over to the boys’ table.
Sarah couldn’t help smiling back, until she saw Sally. Although the girl seemed happy enough standing with Edith and Kitty behind their chairs, Sarah could have cried at her changed appearance. The dress she was wearing fitted well and was obviously another of her own, but the beautiful ringlets had been cut off and her head shaven like the others. Was it really necessary in this day and age? she wondered. Yet in her heart of hearts, she knew it was. Head lice spread like wild fire when children were in such close proximity. That reminded her; she needed to send a message to Dr Hawkins. Although Sally had come from the prestigious school the Deaconess ran, the rules of Red Cliffs decreed all new pupils be examined on entry and, as the little girl had a weakness, she didn’t want to take any chances.
As Harry put his hands together for grace, Sarah saw Mrs Daws beckoning her from the doorway. Quickly she made her way over to where Sergeant Watts was waiting in the hall.
‘Good morning, Sergeant. You’re out and about bright and early,’ she greeted him.
‘A policeman’s lot is a busy one, Miss Sullivan. The citizens of Torquay are only able to sleep easy in their beds because the likes of us are busy patrolling the streets,’ he replied, puffing out his chest so that his silver buttons strained, ready to pop.
‘And a wonderful job you do too,’ Sarah acknowledged. ‘Now, how may I assist you in your enquiries today?’
He frowned for a moment before his lips curled upwards. ‘Very good, miss. Although I do have some questions for you as it happens,’ he said, putting on his glasses and flipping open his notebook. ‘I believe one Christian Lawrence, nephew of the late Dr Samuel Lawrence, is known to you, miss.’ He looked up from his book enquiringly.
‘Oh, yes, we know him,’ Mrs Daws muttered.
The sergeant nodded. ‘And when was the last time you set eyes on the aforementioned, er, gentleman?’
‘Must be a while ago now,’ Sarah replied. ‘It was when I was returning from my visit to the solicitors.’
‘And you’ve not seen him since, miss?’
‘No, thank the Lord,’ Sarah replied.
‘Why, what’s he been up to?’ Mrs Daws asked.
‘He’s disappeared, that’s what,’ the sergeant grunted. ‘Just when we needed to ask him about a few matters. It was something that young girl … er,’ he consulted his notebook, ‘Kitty, that’s it. What Kitty said got me pondering, and when Sergeant Watts gets his thinking cap on no villain is safe, believe you me. Why, I remember …’
‘You mean you think Christian’s a villain?’ Sarah interrupted, wishing the man wouldn’t digress.
‘I mean we are seeking this man to help us with our enquiries,’ he replied officiously.
‘Good heavens. Can you tell us in what connection?’ Sarah asked.
‘I’m afraid not, miss.’
‘Well, if we see him, you’ll be the first to know,’ Mrs Daws told him. ‘Now, can I get you a cuppa, Sergeant?’
‘Very kind, I’m sure. However, with the long arm of the law to uphold, I must be about my business,’ he replied, snapping his notebook shut and placing it in his pocket. With a brisk salute, he marched out of the door.
‘Well,’ Mrs Daws exclaimed. ‘Whatever can that Christian have been up to?’
Sarah shook her head, not liking to voice the suspicion that was forming. ‘I’m sure we’ll find out in due course. Goodness, the children have finished eating already,’ she exclaimed as the boys bounded from the room and out into the grounds. ‘Thank heavens it’s stopped raining so they can let off steam.’
‘Here, miss, ’ave you ’eard ’ow Sally talks? Dead posh, it is,’ Kitty said, coming out of the dining room, her arms linked with the new girl and Edith. ‘Tell miss ’ow you says your name?’
‘My name is Sally Jane Jefferson,’ the girl said in her well-modulated voice.
‘I wish I talked posh like you, Sal,’ Kitty said. Sarah stared at Kitty, surprised she should worry about such things.
‘And she talks French,’ Edith added, gazing at Sally in wonder. ‘Tell miss your name in French,’ she said.
‘Je m’appelle Sally Jane Jefferson,’ the girl softly intoned.
‘My present from Dadda’s got France on it,’ Monday said excitedly, holding up her globe. ‘He’s been there and everywhere else in the whole world,’ she exclaimed.
‘Well, let’s see if this wonderful globe can show you the way to the classroom,’ Harry chuckled, ushering them out of the door.
‘Goodness, somebody has made an impression,’ Mrs Daws said, staring after the new girl. ‘And there was me worrying they’d be taking the mickey out of her posh little voice. There’s just no telling with kids, is there?’ she said, going over and letting down the pulley. ‘Or grown-ups,’ she added, giving Sarah a knowing look.
‘Let me help,’ she replied quickly, only too pleased to hide her flushing cheeks behind the blankets. ‘I’m glad Sally has made friends so quickly, and Monday’s globe seems to have proved a hit too.’
‘You’re telling me,’ April said, coming out of the dining room with an armful of dishes. ‘She and Maisie spent half the night chatting about where they were going when they were old enough to leave here.’ She would have added more but there was a rapping at the door.
‘Postie,’ a voice called.
‘Blimey, it’s quieter in the music hall on a Saturday night,’ Mrs Daws tutted. ‘Come in, Robert. Gracious, what’s all this then?’
‘Morning, Mrs D. This one’s heavy and no mistake, it’s from your accountants, so it’s probably your books,’ he added, sliding the parcel onto the table. ‘There’s a letter from your solicitors as well.’
Sarah shook her head. There was no privacy around here, that was for sure. ‘Is that all?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Suppose you’ll be busy getting ready for the inspection next week, miss?’
‘Yes, it’s going to be a hectic time.’
‘’Specially with the leaky roof and all. They frown on things like that, these official bods. Well, mustn’t stand chatting, got the Queen’s mail to deliver.’ He gave a cheerful wave and disappeared down the path.
‘Well, no need to tell you what’s in the post then,’ Sarah chuckled.
‘Looks like you’re going to have enough to do, Miss Sullivan. You take that lot through to your office, April can help with these,’ she said, nodding to the bedding. ‘At least it’s all dry so you can have your room back tonight.’
‘Actually, I was thinking I might claim that little room behind here permanently,’ she told the woman.
‘But the room upstairs is much bigger, Miss Sullivan,’ the housekeeper replied, staring at Sarah in surprise.
‘And would be better used by the girls,’ Sarah said. ‘Their numbers have increased even in the short time I’ve been here.’
‘They have been crammed in,’ April agreed. ‘And now we’ve to make up a bed for young Sally as well.’
‘Well, if you’re sure, Miss Sullivan,’ the housekeeper said doubtfully.
‘I am, Mrs Daws. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must get on.’
In her office, she swiftly opened the letter from Mr Fothergill, and assuming it would be about the dispute over her uncle’s will, quickly scanned the contents. Instead, it contained a new offer from the developers who wished to purchase Red Cliffs. When Sarah saw the amount they were now willing to pay, she almost fell off her chair. It would certainly solve their financial problems, she thought, but then they’d have to find new premises, which would not be an easy task.
However, Mr Fothergill went on to say that whilst there seemed to be no substance to Christian’s claim on her godfather’s estate, until this was finally proven, nothing could be done. He felt it his duty to apprise her of the situation. She carefully put the letter in her drawer, knowing her uncle would turn in his grave if his beloved school was sold.
The parcel, just as the postie had decreed, contained the ledger showing the audited accounts.
‘We would be grateful if you would verify and sign that you concur with our findings, before the inspection,’ the letter stated. ‘We have pleasure in enclosing our invoice for work carried out and would respectfully remind you that our terms are for settlement within seven days.’
Sarah gasped at the amount stated, then let out a long sigh. As if she didn’t have enough to do, she’d have to make an appointment to see the bank manager. For, apart from needing to draw the money to pay the accountants’ fees, she had to establish their current financial position in order to pre-empt any questions the inspectors might ask.
*
Sarah spent the next couple of days meticulously going through the audited books and setting up her own accounting system. Having been told it would be up to her to answer any financial questions the inspectors might pose, she was determined to be on top of everything.
Although Harry had included the girls in his lesson on Thursday afternoon, what they were going to do on the day of the inspection, she really didn’t know. She’d offered to take the class herself, but Harry had deemed this inappropriate. April could have supervised their sewing, but while the girls respected and heeded what she said, by her own admission, her stitching was wonky.
‘Sarah, don’t forget our fish and chip supper this evening,’ Harry called, popping his head around the door after luncheon on Saturday. ‘It’s raining again, so instead of taking the boys to the farm we’ll be doing carpentry in the workshops. How’s it going?’ he asked, pointing to the open ledger on her desk.
‘If I never see another column of figures, it’ll be too soon,’ she grimaced. ‘Gosh, is that the time? April kindly brought me luncheon here on a tray and said she’d see to the girls until I’d finished, but I’d better not take advantage,’ she said, getting to her feet and stretching her back.
‘You’re looking tired, Sarah. A night out will do you good,’ Harry said, staring at her tenderly. ‘In fact, after the inspection, I shall get the doctor to prescribe us one every Saturday evening.’ He grinned.
‘Sounds good. Meantime, the walk to the classroom will have to suffice.’
Sarah had just settled the girls to their aprons when there was a knock on the door and Amelia appeared.
‘I hope I’m not interrupting,’ she said, gliding into the room.
‘Amelia, how kind of you to come,’ Sarah greeted her warmly. ‘I was just showing the girls how to attach the straps to their aprons, so you’ve arrived at a good time. Girls, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Amelia Knight. She is one of the ladies who have been working hard to finish your new smocks in time for Thursday.’
‘Are they ready yet, miss?’ Edith asked eagerly.
‘Manners, Edith,’ Sarah rebuked the child, but the girls were looking at Amelia expectantly.
‘That’s all right, Miss Sullivan. You will be pleased to know they are almost finished.’
‘Coo, you talk posh like Sal,’ Kitty marvelled. ‘Wish I spoke all nice like.’
Amelia smiled then turned to Sarah. ‘Before I forget, Grandma has been stitching a dress for you to wear on Thursday and wonders if you would be kind enough to try it on. I said I’d let her know any adjustments that need making,’ she said, holding up a parcel wrapped in tissue paper.
‘Oh,’ Sarah murmured, not knowing whether to be pleased or insulted. ‘How did she know my size?’
Amelia smiled. ‘My grandmother has worked in the trade for so many years she’s developed a skill for estimating people’s measurements.’
‘I see. I’ll try it on when we’ve got these apron straps sorted,’ she finally said.
‘I know Grandma can be a bit bossy but she means well,’ Amelia said quietly.
Immediately, Sarah felt ashamed. There were all these kind people giving up their time to help smarten them up, and she was acting like a martyr.
‘I’m sorry. I appreciate her generosity, really I do,’ Sarah assured her.
Meanwhile, in the workshop, Harry was patiently helping the boys with the finishing touches to their toys. Never before had he seen such brightly painte
d boats. He couldn’t fault their enthusiasm but, despite his encouragement, their skills left much to be desired. Still, knowing the generosity of the people who attended the church fayre, he knew they’d sell anyway.
‘Hey, sir, do you think this tug would look nice with red spots on it?’ Brown called, holding up his boat.
‘I think it looks decorative enough already,’ Harry said, trying not to sigh at the lopsided line painted along the side. ‘Why not move on to another one?’
‘I’m already on my third one, sir,’ Black bragged.
‘We must remember it’s quality not quantity that counts,’ he reminded them.
‘Unless it’s Mrs Daws’ cakes,’ Bunter sniggered.
‘Here, sir, there’s a smart toff trying to get in. Shall I go and open the gate?’ Pip called from his position by the window.
‘If you would, Pip,’ Harry said, ‘but come and get me if you need assistance. Right, now, young Luke, let’s see how you’re getting on.’ Harry knelt down beside the young boy. Then he blinked in astonishment, for although the boy was conscientious, he was usually slow in his work. ‘Why, Luke, that’s a masterpiece,’ he said, holding up a diabolo the boy had put together. ‘Wherever did you learn to do that?’
The boy flushed with pleasure at the master’s praise. ‘Da taught me ’afore ’e died. ’E were clever like that. I still miss ’im,’ he mumbled.
Seeing the little boy’s face crumple, Harry quickly called the class to attention. ‘Gather around, boys, and if we ask him nicely, Luke might show us how to assemble the parts of a diabolo like this.’
Seeing he was the centre of attention, the boy beamed. ‘’Tis easy, really. What you do is this …’ he began, picking up two sticks and some string.
‘Hey, sir, that toff has come to see Miss Sullivan,’ Pip said, limping into the room. ‘Did you ask his name?’ Harry asked.
‘Yeah, and he said it were none of my business. He’s right mean-looking and his eyes is too close together for my likin’,’ Pip growled. ‘He were carrying one red rose. I mean, if I were courting a woman I’d at least take her a whole big bunch.’