by Linda Finlay
‘It is,’ Harry replied, shivering as a sudden gust of wind caught him unawares. He pulled his muffler tighter around him. ‘It’s cold out here, Pip, so on second thoughts, leave the gates unlocked and go inside. Keep watch from the window in case Solomon returns. I’ll make sure everything’s secure later.’
Hurrying down the road, he stared around, grateful no one appeared to be peering out of their windows. The neighbours always seemed to sense when something was amiss and the last thing the school needed were more complaints about disturbance. He broke into a run, his breath snaking in wisps before him in the cold. Was that snow he could smell on the air?
Even before he reached the burned-out shell of the foundry and toolmakers, Harry could hear Solomon’s distraught sobs. A single plume of smoke was rising from the ruin, beside which the boy was lying beating the ground with his fists. All thoughts of the smashed coops fled as Harry’s heart went out to him. Hunkering down beside him, he spoke softly.
‘Solomon, it’s me, Harry Higgins from the school.’ The boy stilled, his sobs muffled as he tried to bury his head into the hardened mud. Harry waited.
‘Go away,’ the child muttered eventually.
‘Afraid I’m here for the duration,’ Harry murmured gently.
Silence, then a sniff.
‘Why do you use them fancy words?’
‘Probably because I’m a schoolmaster,’ Harry replied easily. ‘Always had a liking for words and their meanings.’
‘Suppose you’ve come to give me a rollicking for ruining them coops. Well, you can save yer bref ’cos I don’t care.’ The boy’s attempt at bravado was spoiled by a hiccup.
‘I see,’ Harry replied, and lapsed into silence. Experience told him to hold his tongue. The silence lengthened until eventually there was a soft rustling sound as the boy sat up and peered at Harry through the darkness.
‘Ain’t you cross?’
‘Yes.’
‘That all yer got to say?’ Solomon asked.
Harry shrugged. ‘Words won’t change what you’ve done. Besides, I’ll have my job cut out explaining to the others that their hard work has been in vain. It’s a shame because they’ve been looking forward to keeping hens and collecting fresh eggs for breakfast.’ This was met with silence. ‘Of course, I’ll also have to tell Farmer Jim that we won’t be able to help him by taking some of his poultry. Your actions will affect a lot of people.’
‘I didn’t mean to destroy them,’ Solomon muttered. ‘It’s just that I was cross and once I started I couldn’t stop.’ Harry remained silent. ‘They all looked happy banging away and didn’t care I was ’urting and upset.’
‘I know you’ve had a nasty shock, Solomon, but the others have suffered ordeals, too.’
‘That Bunter was right snotty,’ Solomon muttered, wiping his nose with his sleeve.
Harry ignored it. ‘He can be a bit bossy,’ he agreed. ‘But then he has his reasons. He had to stick up for his sister when his stepfather took the smoothing iron to her.’
‘Blimey, what ’appened?’
‘The man came home worse for drink and took it out on the poor girl. Bunter tried to defend her but …’ He let his voice trail away.
‘You mean the brute did her in?’ Solomon gasped.
‘Yes. He was locked up, of course, but Bunter blamed himself for his sister’s death.’
‘My father never drank. He was a good man,’ he whispered. Then, overcome by grief once more, he began sobbing. This time, though, when Harry went to comfort him, he didn’t move away.
‘That’s it, old fella, you let it out,’ he murmured, patting the boy’s back.
‘They wouldn’t let me go and see ’im,’ he wailed. ‘I wanted to say goodbye. I needed to speak to ’im,’ he cried, becoming agitated again.
Harry pulled him close. ‘Probably better to remember him as he was when you last saw him.’
The boy stiffened. ‘That’s what Mrs Daws said.’
‘Well, we can’t both be wrong, can we? Now I’m perishing sitting on this cold ground. What say we go back to Red Cliffs and have a hot drink?’ he suggested.
Solomon shook his head vigorously.
‘You don’t have to come back with me if you don’t want to, but you can’t live there,’ Harry added, pointing to the still smoking rubble that was all that remained of the foundry. ‘Do you have any friends you could stay with?’
The boy shook his head. ‘The likes of us don’t have friends,’ he murmured.
‘How old are you, Solomon?’ Harry asked, as a thought occurred to him.
‘Eleven years and three months,’ he announced, puffing out his chest.
‘Well, in that case, if you don’t want to come back with me, it will probably mean the workhouse,’ Harry said, getting to his feet.
‘I ain’t goin’ to no workhouse. I’m almost growed up and can look after meself, I’ll stay here,’ he declared, crossing his arms defiantly. Just then an owl hooted as it swooped low in front of them. The boy jumped then crumpled. Seeing the look of terror on his face, Harry held out his hand.
‘Come on, old chap.’
‘But what about the damage I done? The others will kill me when they find out.’
‘They will certainly be cross at first but I don’t think they’ll go as far as killing you. As far as I’m aware we’ve never had a murder at Red Cliffs. Of course, you’ll need to apologize and offer to help them rebuild the coops. You could even promise to make them finer than they were in the first place.’ He smiled so that the boy realized he was trying to help.
‘How can I do that?’
‘By offering to lend them your tools. I take it that’s what’s in there?’
‘Well, yes, but …’ He frowned, clutching his bundle to him once more.
‘Our school funds don’t run to fine tools, Solomon, and the ones we’ve been managing with are rusty, leaving ugly marks on the wood. Some of our edges are quite wonky as well,’ Harry laughed.
‘Well, I could put that right, I suppose,’ Solomon replied, patting his bundle. Then, as the threatened sleet began to fall, he put his hand up to his shaved head and grimaced. ‘Those blinkin’ women haven’t left me any ’air and me ’ead’s freezin’.’
‘Here, put this over you,’ Harry said, removing his muffler and winding it around the boy. ‘Come on, it’s time we headed back. That’s if you want to return to Red Cliffs, of course.’
‘Yeah, all right,’ Solomon sighed. They walked in silence for a few moments.
‘You know, Solomon, it’s good to have friends around you when you lose someone as special as your father,’ Harry said.
The boy looked at him in surprise. ‘You sound like you know.’
‘I do, old fella. Admittedly I was older than you when my father died but it still hurt terribly. It’s true that time does ease the pain somewhat. I never believed it when people told me that, but as the months roll by you find yourself remembering the good times you shared.’
‘Yeah, but that’s just it. I bet you was always good when ’e was alive,’ Solomon muttered.
To his surprise the master chuckled. ‘I lost count of the number of times he threatened me with a hiding.’
‘Really?’ The boy stopped and stared at him in amazement.
‘Yes, really. I thought he was bluffing until the time he caught me trying to erase a blot from the page of his dictionary. It was his prize possession and I was forbidden to use it unless he gave permission. Goodness, was he cross; I couldn’t sit down for days,’ he admitted.
‘Makes you sound ’uman. Yer know, yer all right for a teacher,’ Solomon muttered.
‘Just remember that’s what I am, Solomon, your schoolmaster,’ Harry said gruffly. ‘And in class you’re a pupil and will receive the same treatment as everyone else.’
‘Yes, sir,’ he murmured, trying to execute a salute through the wool of the muffler.
Although Harry had tried to warn the boys about the mess they would find in th
e workroom, there was such an outcry he had to intervene.
‘This just ain’t blinkin’ fair,’ Black cried, dark eyes glinting as he gestured towards the smashed coops. At nine years old, he might be mischievous but he couldn’t understand this act of blatant destruction.
‘All that bloomin’ work for nuffin’,’ eight-year-old Brown growled, his cheeks red with indignation. ‘If I get me ’ands on the culprit I’ll kill ’im.’
‘We was goin’ to get the chicks on Saturday, too,’ Luke murmured, his eyes filling with tears.
‘Who would ’ave dun such a terrible thing?’ Bunter exclaimed.
‘Someone very unhappy, I think,’ Harry replied. He was about to add more when Solomon spoke up.
‘It was me and I’m sorry for what I done,’ he admitted. The boys stared at him in disbelief. ‘I don’t know what came over me. One minute I was angry about me father dying the next …’ He shook his head and gestured to the splintered wood littering the tables and floor.
‘Well, at least you’ve had the courage to own up,’ Harry said. ‘That can’t have been easy.’
‘I’d like to help rebuild them,’ Solomon told the boys, who were all silent for once. ‘I got me tools here,’ he added, holding up his bundle. ‘They’re real good ones and you can use them if you want.’ Eagerly he untied the string and laid out his hammers, various chisels, files and a small shovel. ‘Oh, and I got a saw, too,’ he added, unfolding a longer implement that was wrapped in thick cloth.
‘Blimey, they’re the real job,’ Luke marvelled, reaching out and running his fingers over the smooth handles.
‘So what do you say, boys? Shall we accept Solomon’s apology and offer of help?’ Harry said, quick to sense the change in mood.
‘Guess it was ’orrid for you losing your father,’ Bunter admitted. ‘Sorry I called you Sniff.’
‘It really hurts in ’ere, don’t it?’ Luke agreed, tapping his chest.
‘Yeah, and we know what it’s like being orphaned, too,’ Black and Brown agreed, serious for once. ‘All right, we’ll use those tools to make more coops,’ they agreed, eyes now wide with excitement.
‘Good, I was hoping you’d say that, boys. Right let’s get on and see if we can have the new ones ready by Saturday,’ Harry said briskly. ‘Put that saw down, Black. It’s sharper than the one we’ve been using and you need to be careful.’
Harry suppressed a sigh. Although he was relieved the boys had accepted Solomon’s apology, the wood was so badly splintered he would have to use the last of his supply. He only hoped there was enough; the school didn’t have the funds to purchase any more.
Meanwhile in the classroom, Sarah was helping the girls to sort through the donations for suitable items of clothing to adapt. Having spent a long, anxious night waiting to find out if Solomon was safe, she’d slept fitfully and woken with a thumping headache. When Harry had asked if she minded switching the time of her sewing lesson, she had been grateful for the opportunity to abandon her paperwork in favour of an easier morning.
‘Coo, I loves this yellow floaty one, miss,’ Kitty gushed, dragging Sarah back to the present as she held up a full-skirted dress complete with petticoats. ‘Imagine wearing something like this; you’d feel like a princess.’
‘That voile will be a bugger to work on,’ Edith pointed out, then put her hand to her mouth when Sarah stared at her. ‘Pardon my French, miss.’
‘I would prefer you not to use such language, Edith. It really isn’t necessary.’
‘Sorry, miss,’ she muttered, paying more attention to the clothes than Sarah.
‘As you are finding that donations box so riveting, perhaps you would like to select garments that would be suitable for us to work on,’ Sarah suggested.
‘Me?’ Edith gasped.
‘Yes, you seem to know quite a bit about it and if you share your knowledge, it will save us all time in the long run.’
‘Well, I did use to watch me old gran, unpicking old things. She were the Queen’s personal seamstress afore she died and …’
‘Then I’m sure you’ll be happy to show the others what you learned,’ Sarah interrupted quickly before the girl’s imagination ran away with her further. ‘Now, as April is unable to join us today, you can help Maggie get started on her dress. The rest of us will watch as you demonstrate how to unpick and remodel. And you can give us a running commentary using your best language.’
‘Cripes, I mean, I can?’ she squeaked.
‘Indeed, Edith.’
The girl squared her shoulders. ‘Like I said, me gran told me you gotta choose your material carefully. You need somefink easier to work on than that flimsy voile. This would be good,’ she announced, brandishing a long robe in checked cotton. You unpicks the seams then spread out the material. Using your measurements, you then pins the shape …
‘Oh, rabbit’s bol …’ Kitty cried, then stopped as the room fell silent.
‘Is something wrong, Kitty?’ Sarah asked, walking over to where the girl was trying to hide the yellow dress beneath the table.
‘Kindly show me what you’ve been doing when you should have been watching Edith.’ There was a pause. Then, looking guilty, Kitty held up the voluminous yellow dress.
‘Perhaps you would like to tell us how this got here?’ Sarah asked, waggling a finger through the large hole in the front of the bodice. ‘Or perhaps it was already there when you took it out of the donations box?’ She paused and could see Kitty was tempted to take the easy way out. Then she swallowed and shook her head.
‘The scissors slipped, miss,’ she admitted.
‘And why were you using scissors instead of this?’ she asked, holding up the silver unpicking implement.
‘I thought it would be quicker, miss.’
‘Well, clearly it wasn’t. Apart from the fact you should have been watching the demonstration like the rest of us, I don’t remember giving you permission to even have that dress, let alone begin taking it apart.’
‘But it’s so pretty and I really, really wanted it, miss,’ Kitty wailed. ‘When Edith said it would be a bugger to work on, I just knew you wouldn’t let me have it so I thought whilst you was all busy watching, I’d show you what I could do.’
Seeing the girl’s look of abject dejection, Sarah’s heart went out to her. Most of these girls had never had anything beautiful of their own before, yet she knew she couldn’t ignore the use of expletives.
‘First, may I remind you that we do not use language like that at Red Cliffs. There are enough adjectives in the English language to express an attribute of something.’
‘What?’ the girl blinked.
‘Right, everyone,’ Sarah said, turning to the others. ‘Who can give me a suitable adjective to use instead?’ she asked. As they stared blankly back, her heart sank. Surely Master Higgins had touched on this?
‘Well, who can tell me what an adjective is then?’ Sarah persisted.
‘I doesn’t know no jectives,’ seven-year-old June lisped.
‘Perhaps one of you older girls can enlighten June?’ Sarah suggested. ‘Maggie?’
‘Search me,’ the eleven-year-old shrugged.
‘No good looking at me, miss,’ Edith added.
‘Right then, girls, gather round now and we’ll finish this morning with a lesson on English grammar.’ Ignoring their groans, Sarah smiled and began explaining suitable words they could use to better express themselves.
‘Still don’t see what’s wrong with “bugger”,’ Kitty muttered, ten minutes later when they were dismissed. ‘I mean, it described that voile all right, didn’t it?’
4
Having dismissed the girls from their lesson and with her head still thumping, Sarah decided to forgo luncheon and catch up on her paperwork. She couldn’t believe she’d had to make the girls learn adjectives rather than continue with the dressmaking they’d been so excited about. She understood they all had their own way of speaking, but the continued use of expletives wasn’t som
ething she was prepared to put up with. She wanted to raise the standard of teaching at Red Cliffs and when the new schoolmistress was appointed, she would make her aware of this.
Sifting through the pile of envelopes that had been neatly placed on her desk, she saw one was from Mr Fothergill, her solicitor. Eagerly, she slit the seal but her heart sank as she read the contents.
Lady Chorlton appreciates that you are keen to meet with her, but regrets this is not possible at present as she is in mourning for our dear late Queen. She sends her apologies and will advise when she is available to receive you.
Disappointment surging through her, Sarah tossed the letter aside and rested her head in her hands. Apart from being curious about her godfather’s close friend, she had discovered that last night’s bad weather had brought yet more wet in through the roof, albeit in a different place. Knowing the money in the bank account was dwindling fast, she’d been hoping their benefactress might be able to help. Although it went against the grain to have to ask for more support, she could think of no other way of securing funding in the short term. Clearly she now needed to make other arrangements, but what? Her musing was interrupted by a brisk rap on the door.
‘Come in,’ she called. As the schoolmaster stepped into the room, she stared at him in surprise.
‘Goodness, Harry, you don’t normally wait to be invited in,’ she joked. He didn’t return her smile, just stood there looking so stern she could feel the anger emanating from him. ‘Whatever is the matter?’
‘I have come to tender my resignation,’ he informed her stiffly.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, taken aback at the coldness in his voice.
‘It would appear my teaching methods leave much to be desired. I hear from the girls you have seen fit to give them a lesson in the proper use of adjectives.’
‘Oh, that,’ Sarah laughed, waving her hands dismissively. ‘I thought for a moment there you were being serious.’
‘But I am, Miss Sullivan. To go above my head and teach my pupils without the courtesy of prior consultation is unforgivable, not to say darn right unprofessional.’