Hold On to Hope

by Jean Fullerton

  There was a light knock. Jonathan adjusted his patch and called, ‘Enter.’

  The door opened and Miss Wainwright and Mr Rudd came in.

  Leticia Wainwright was in her late thirties and on the skinny side of slender, which gave her features a pinched look. She was dressed as usual in an unadorned black gown, which drained the colour from her complexion. Mr Rudd, on the other hand, had a florid face and dressed in a crumpled hopsack suit, looking more like a down-at-heel shopkeeper than a teacher.

  ‘Headmaster,’ they said in unison.

  Jonathan waved them in. ‘Please sit.’

  Miss Wainwright perched on the edge of her seat with her knees together while Mr Rudd stretched his neck out of his stiff collar and crossed his legs.

  ‘Thank you for your prompt attendance.’

  ‘Say nothing of it. After all, you are in command of our happy little family and we must obey. Must we not, Leticia?’ Mr Rudd said.

  ‘Oh, yes. We must obey,’ echoed Miss Wainwright.

  Mr Rudd dusted the chalk residue from his tweed trousers. ‘Of course, if there is anything you think might improve with a bit of tinkering then—’

  ‘I’ve read each and every one of Mr Gardener’s reports from the last five years and found them – how can I put this charitably – wanting.’

  Mr Rudd’s assured smile slipped a little. ‘I’m afraid the previous headmaster suffered bouts of ill health.’

  Jonathan raised an eyebrow. ‘So I understand from the empty brandy bottle I found tucked at the back of my desk drawer.’

  Mr Rudd swallowed and Miss Wainwright studied her feet.

  ‘As I did not know him, nor any burdens he carried, I shall not condemn him. We must put that behind us. But I have decided to make a few changes.’ Jonathan took out half a dozen sheets of paper. ‘As from next Monday, I will be reading God’s word and leading morning prayer to both boys and girls together. To that end, I have asked Mr Delaney to draw back the central screen each day.’

  ‘But it hasn’t been moved for years,’ Mr Rudd protested.

  ‘You can hardly have an act of corporate worship without us all being in the same room,’ Jonathan replied. ‘Now, to the second item on my list.’

  Miss Wainwright coughed. ‘Forgive me for asking, Headmaster, but will this take long? I must get home to Mother.’

  Jonathan raised an eyebrow. ‘The school day ends at four o’clock. It is only five past three so you needn’t worry about catching your omnibus just yet.’ He returned to his notes. ‘The second matter is that from Monday all pupils will follow the same curriculum. These are the subjects that will be included.’ He handed a sheet of paper to each of them. ‘The only variants will be that the girls will continue to learn needlework and the boys carpentry. The next item concerns the issue of uniforms, or should I say, the lack of uniform.’

  Miss Wainwright’s thin face screwed up. ‘Forgive me, Headmaster, but this is a very poor area. Mothers send their children to school in what they can afford.’

  ‘I am aware of that, Miss Wainwright, and so was Alderman Ferries, who some seventy years ago set aside a sum of a hundred pounds in his will to’ – Jonathan ran his finger down his notes until he found the appropriate entry – ‘“provide good, sound raiments for young persons attending St Katharine’s School”.’ He looked up. ‘Why do we have pupils wearing threadbare dresses and jackets while, according to my records, this fund hasn’t been drawn on for almost nine years?’

  Mr Rudd gave a light laugh. ‘It’s foolish, I know, but there’s a boneheaded stubbornness among the locals to accept charity.’

  ‘That is commendable, of course, but if the reputation of the school is to be reformed, I cannot have the children dressed as if they are pupils of a ragged school. I have approached Davison’s, the outfitters on the Highway, and he has agreed to supply our pupils with discounted uniforms. The school will make good his losses from the alderman’s funds.’ He turned to the next page of his notes. ‘And now to the question of the children’s health.’

  ‘It’s shocking,’ Miss Wainwright said.

  ‘I agree, and will be asking the school nurse to resume her visit every month. I’m also in correspondence with Dr Munroe, the clinical director of the London Hospital, with a view to having all the children inoculated against smallpox. I also have plans for their diet but I’ll advise you of those at a later date.’

  ‘If I may say so, Headmaster, that is most charitable of you,’ Miss Wainwright said, fluttering her pale eyelashes at him.

  ‘Thank you. And now let us turn to the last matter on my list: discipline.’ He pulled the punishment book over. ‘I am somewhat concerned about . . . how can I put this?’ He fixed the teachers with a steely gaze. ‘The over-enthusiastic use of the cane.’

  Mr Rudd ran his finger around the inside of his collar again. ‘Some of the pupils come from belligerent and argumentative backgrounds and bring such behaviour into the classroom.’

  ‘Indeed, but there doesn’t seem to be a day without at least half a dozen names entered into the punishment book.’ He tapped the page lightly with his finger. ‘Henceforth, I alone will sanction corporal punishment. And I’m abolishing the dunce’s hat.’

  Mr Rudd sat forward. ‘But how are we meant to control the class?’

  Jonathan gave them a stern look. ‘How do you think I got men to march day and night without food or water and charge into the enemies’ guns?’ They looked blank. ‘By leadership, and that is how we are going to educate the children of this school. Through leadership. Do you understand?’

  Mr Rudd and Miss Wainwright nodded.

  ‘Good.’ Jonathan stood up. ‘According to the records, St Katharine’s used to be a beacon for education and I am determined it will be once again.’ He stood up. ‘Thank you for your time. I’ll see you on Monday.’

  Mr Rudd and Miss Wainwright rose to their feet and left the office.

  Jonathan fell back into his chair with a sigh. The scar around his eyes was itching so he took off his eyepatch and rubbed it. He closed his good eye and let his shoulders relax. Mr Rudd and Miss Wainwright hadn’t put up as much opposition to his changes as he thought they might. Perhaps he would be able to turn the school’s fortunes around sooner rather than later. Perhaps being the headmaster of St Katharine’s wasn’t going to be so bad after all and maybe next time he wrote to Captain Braithwaite, Jonathan would be a little more genuine in his thanks.

  There was a knock on the door. ‘Come,’ he called, quickly readjusting his eyepatch.

  The door squeaked open and then the lock clicked as it closed. Jonathan looked up.

  Standing there was the young woman from the chop house. Next to her was the young lad he’d met a few weeks earlier outside the pub.

  She looked astonished. ‘You’re the new headmaster!’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Captain Quinn?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But you’re an army officer stationed in Colchester?’

  ‘I resigned.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘A month ago,’ he replied, annoyed that he was having trouble forming more than two words at a time.

  ‘Oh.’ She blinked and pulled herself together. ‘Begging you pardon, sir, I . . . I’m Mrs Ellis and I have an appointment to talk about my son.’

  ‘You’re married?’

  She looked cross. ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply . . .’

  ‘I have a daughter, too. She is already a pupil and I’ve come to apply for a place for my son, Joe. You were expecting me, weren’t you?’

  ‘No . . . yes. I was but . . .’ Jonathan took himself firmly in hand and rose to his feet. ‘Please forgive me, Mrs Ellis; I’m just a little surprised to meet you again in these circumstances. Won’t you please sit down?’

  A little surprised! I should say, thought Kate as he drew the chair away from the desk.

  ‘Please, take a seat.’

  ‘Thank you, si
r,’ she said, feeling her colour rise under his unwavering stare.

  She sat down and positioned Joe alongside her. Joe had whipped off his cap as Captain Quinn resumed his seat.

  ‘It’s good of you to see me and as I’m sure you’re a busy man I’ll try not to take up too much of your time, Captain Quinn,’ she said, annoyed that her voice quivered.

  He leant across the desk. ‘Please, there’s no hurry.’

  Kate nodded. ‘As I say, sir, I have come to apply for a place for my son, Joseph Patrick, who is five.’

  Joe stepped forward, put his right arm across his middle and bowed.

  ‘Good day, sir,’ Joe said, in an oddly solemn voice.

  ‘Well, now, this is an afternoon for surprises, is it not, Mrs Ellis? For not only do I have the pleasure of meeting you again,’ his gaze ran over her and Kate’s heart thumped, ‘but also the brave lad who assisted me when I was set upon by ruffians.’ He looked at Joe and smiled. ‘Did he tell you of his valiant deed?’

  She nodded. ‘When he described the man he’d rescued, I wondered . . .’ Her gaze flicked onto his patch. ‘The way Joe told the tale it sounded like you needed little help.’

  ‘British army training, Mrs Ellis. It has stood me in good stead on more than one occasion.’

  Kate opened the drawstring bag on her wrist and pulled out a carefully folded sheet of paper. ‘If you please, sir, this is the letter of recommendation from Mr Overton. I hope you find it all in order.’

  Captain Quinn took it from her. Their fingers touched for the briefest moment and Kate pulled her hand away. He scrutinised the vicar’s letter for a moment then looked up again.

  ‘Your husband’s family have a long connection with St George’s church.’ Captain Quinn raised an eyebrow. ‘And I see that he attended St Katharine’s school, too?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Kate replied.

  In truth Freddie had spent more time out of school than in it but had left for good at twelve with just enough skills to make sense of an order book.

  ‘Well, things have changed here, Mrs Ellis. I have instituted new rules, which I am sure will enhance the learning and welfare of our pupils. The children are required to wear the stipulated uniform, which must be kept in good order at all times. They must wear boots even in the summer. They must be clean and with their hair combed.’

  ‘I understand,’ Kate replied.

  His expression softened and he smiled at her. ‘I’m sure you will have no trouble meeting those requirements because, if I might say, your son is a credit to you – as I’m sure your daughter is also, Mrs Ellis.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  There was a moment of awkward silence then he looked down distractedly at the papers.

  He cleared his throat. ‘I drill the children each morning and both girls and boys are taught the three Rs along with geography, history and nature studies. And they must attend each day without fail unless they are unwell.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Very well.’ He smiled. ‘I have great pleasure in offering Master Ellis a place in St Katharine’s school, when classes resume after the Christmas break.’

  ‘I am most grateful, sir, I really am. And I can promise that Joe,’ she tousled his hair, ‘will be perfect a scholar. Won’t you, Joe?’

  Joe grinned and nodded.

  Captain Quinn looked down at her with the same expression that had unsettled her from the moment he’d walked into the shop.

  ‘You’ll get a letter of confirmation in a week or two, Mrs Ellis.’ They stared at each other for a moment then he took the quill from the inkwell.

  ‘Of course.’ Kate nudged Joe.

  ‘Good day, sir,’ Joe said.

  Kate ushered him out of the door. She turned to say goodbye again but Captain Quinn didn’t look up. She closed the door behind her.

  As they walked into the deserted schoolyard the icy wind tugged at Kate’s bonnet.

  ‘Ma?’ Joe asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you like Captain Quinn?’

  ‘Oh, I can’t say. I’ve only just met him,’ Kate replied, feeling her cheeks glow again.

  ‘I do,’ said Joe. ‘But I don’t know why people call ’im Nelson.’

  From the moment Mabel Puttock spotted Mrs Benson sitting in her usual pew on the other side of the aisle, she was exceedingly glad she’d decided to wear her new pink gown. Well, in truth, it wasn’t the sight of the elderly widow that caught her attention but the man sitting alongside her.

  All through the service, which seemed unusually long, she had found her eyes straying in his direction. Her father had been on the interview panel for the new headmaster so she knew well enough who he was but Papa had failed to mention that Captain Quinn was strikingly handsome.

  Captain Quinn hadn’t noticed her but by the way he responded to Mr Overton’s liturgy, she could tell he was a true believer like herself. Even so, she could hardly wait for the service to end.

  The organ struck up for the final hymn and the congregation rose to their feet. With her eyes on the crucifix and her prettiest expression on her face just in case, Mabel took up the refrain.

  The sacristan procession led by the vicar filed out. As soon as the vestry door closed, the congregation sank to their knees again for private prayer. Quickly asking the Almighty to watch over her for another week, Mabel crossed herself and slid out of the pew.

  Old Mrs Harris spotted her and lumbered towards her. For goodness sake, thought Mabel as she saw her take out a handkerchief and dab her eyes. He was seventy-two and has been dead for six months.

  Turning her head, Mabel ducked behind a column and continued down the aisle. She stopped a discreet distance from Mrs Benson but made sure she was in her eye-line.

  Mabel twirled a brown curl and straightened a couple of bows on her sleeve as she waited for Mrs Benson and Captain Quinn to finish their conversation with the vicar’s wife. From under the brim of her bonnet she studied St Katharine’s new headmaster. She’d thought him impressive at a distance but close up he was striking. Mrs Overton was pointing to the stained-glass window and explaining the history of the church. Captain Quinn looked up and Mabel edged forward and coughed lightly.

  They turned and looked at her. ‘Good morning, Mrs Benson. Mrs Overton.’

  ‘And to you, Miss Puttock,’ Mrs Overton replied.

  ‘I thought Mr Overton’s sermon was particularly fine this morning.’ Mabel said.

  ‘Why, thank you, Miss Puttock. Our attitude towards the deserving poor in these lax times is one of his favourite themes.’ Her eyes flickered past Mabel. ‘Oh! I’ve just spotted Mrs Lamb. Please excuse me, Mrs Benson. Captain Quinn.’

  She hurried off and Mabel waited expectantly.

  Mrs Benson smiled impishly at her. ‘Good morning, Miss Puttock, you’re looking very pretty today.’ Mabel lowered her eyes modestly. ‘I don’t believe you’ve met Captain Quinn, our new headmaster.’

  Mabel looked up. ‘No, I’m afraid I haven’t.’

  ‘Captain Quinn, may I introduce Miss Puttock.’

  He looked at her and Mabel’s heart fluttered. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Puttock.’

  Mabel gave him a dazzling smile. ‘Captain Quinn. I’ve heard so much about you.’

  ‘Please don’t believe any of it.’ He laughed and Mrs Benson did too.

  Mabel frowned. ‘But they were only good things, Captain Quinn.’

  Mrs Benson slipped her arm in Mabel’s. ‘I’m sure they were.’ She looked at Captain Quinn. ‘Miss Puttock is one of my keenest parish workers. She helps with the infants’ Sunday school, visits the poor to give them comfort and arranges the church flowers.’ She smiled mischievously. ‘And she will make someone a wonderful wife one day.’

  Mabel blushed. ‘It’s most fortunate that you are here with Mrs Benson,’ she said, looking shyly up at him from under her lashes, ‘because I want to discuss the school’s summer fair with her. It’s only a few months away and I thought to ce
lebrate our new headmaster we ought to make it a bit special. Perhaps with a military theme?’

  ‘What a very good idea,’ said Mrs Benson. ‘What do you think, Captain Quinn?’

  Mabel saw that his attention was taken by something at the other end of the church. She followed his gaze but could only see Mrs Ellis, the woman who ran the chop house. Her two children were milling about by the door.

  Captain Quinn smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Benson. I missed what you said.’

  Mrs Benson shook her finger at him. ‘If you don’t pay attention, young man, you’ll find yourself standing in the corner.’ Mabel looked shocked but Captain Quinn just laughed. ‘Miss Puttock suggested we give our humble school fair a military flavour to welcome you,’ she repeated.

  ‘That’s a capital idea!’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Mabel fluttered her eyelashes again, ‘as a returning hero, you would do us the honour of opening the fair for us.’

  ‘You flatter me, Miss Puttock. But I would be delighted,’ he said, smiling at her.

  Mabel lowered her eyes as she felt her cheeks grow warm. ‘Also, if you don’t think me too bold, I would like to invite you to take tea with Mama and me one afternoon. Say perhaps next Wednesday at four o’clock?’ she said, breathlessly.

  His smile widened. ‘That is very kind of you and I would be delighted. But now, if you would excuse me, ladies, I have a lunch date with a friend of mine: Captain Braithwaite.’

  He gave them a bow and strolled back down the church towards the main doors. Mabel watched him until he walked out of the church.

  ‘So what do you think of St Katharine’s new headmaster, Mabel?’ Mrs Benson asked when he was out of earshot.

  ‘I think we are most fortunate to have a man such as Captain Quinn teaching the parish children.’

  ‘And I imagine he must have looked splendid in his uniform. Don’t you think?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ she replied as a surge of unmaidenly longing rose up in her. ‘He must have looked splendid indeed.’

  Chapter Eight

  Ella and Joe stood in the middle of Davison’s outfitters with their arms by their sides as Kate looked them over. Behind them and crammed into every nook and cranny were hats, shawls and bonnets of all shapes of sizes. Above their heads, brightly coloured dresses and petticoats hung like bunting from ceiling hooks while against the far wall stood row upon row of boots graded from small to large and tied together in pairs by their laces. On the left side of the shop men’s suits were squashed together on a high rail while under them, in folded piles, were the serge trousers and rough fabric shirts worn by dock labourers and rivermen alike. Opposite were bales of serviceable fabric ready for the thrifty housewife to make clothes either for her own use or to sell. The front shop mainly sold new clothes and the back had two metal rails holding what was labelled ‘quality secondhand attire’. The musky smell from these tingled Kate’s nose as she studied her children.