Orphans and Angels

by Linda Finlay

  By the time she reached the bank, her equilibrium was restored. However, Mr Collings, although pleasant, was firm in his refusal.

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss Sullivan,’ he said, staring at her sadly. ‘There just isn’t the money coming into your account to allow for the repayments on a loan.’

  ‘So you don’t mind the children having wet raining down on their heads?’ she retorted, glaring at him over his pile of papers.

  ‘Yes, of course I do, but I wonder if you are looking in the wrong place for a solution,’ he replied, his eyes softening. ‘I understand you have received another, more substantial offer for the property.’

  That must have come from Fothergill, Sarah thought, opening her mouth to protest that client confidentiality should be paramount. However, the man held up his hands in mock surrender.

  ‘You needn’t answer my question, Miss Sullivan, and shoot me if you wish. However, I knew and admired your godfather for many years and believe me, anything I or his solicitor advise is purely in the interest of the school. Perhaps it is time to accept one of those offers, and of course, my advice would be to go for the highest. Then you could find premises with a roof that doesn’t leak and relocate the children.’

  ‘Never, Mr Collings,’ Sarah protested. ‘My godfather built up that school from scratch. He took in the children, nurtured and educated them. Do you truly expect me to throw his life’s work back in his face?’ she spluttered.

  ‘Of course not. I was merely suggesting that a solution might be for you to remove.’

  Sarah swallowed and took a deep breath. ‘Mr Collings, I promised my godfather I’d keep the children at Red Cliffs where they feel secure and, with or without your assistance, that is precisely what I intend to do. Thank you for your time, and good morning,’ she said, getting to her feet and leaving with as much dignity as she could.

  As she stood outside the bank, collecting her thoughts, she noticed the tall building opposite. Taking a chance, she called in at Mr Fothergill’s office, only to be told he would be in court for the rest of the day. Thwarted for the second time that morning, she was making her way down the high street when a voice hailed her.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Sullivan.’

  Sarah looked up to see the new schoolmistress, shopping basket over her arm, smiling brightly at her.

  ‘Oh, good morning, Miss O’Reilly,’ she replied.

  ‘To be sure, you look as though you’ve dropped a guinea and picked up a sixpence.’ Sarah stared at the woman, wondering if she was always this impertinent. Then Sheena’s smile turned to one of dismay. ‘Oh, please don’t tell me there has been sad news of Farmer Jim?’

  ‘As far as we know, he is still holding his own,’ Sarah replied.

  ‘Ah, that is good then. I thought by your glum expression that you’d heard he’d … but no news is good news, isn’t it?’

  ‘So they reckon, Miss O’Reilly.’

  ‘And really there is nothing as important as him making a recovery, is there? As we say in Ireland, is fearr an tsláinte ná na táinte,’ Sheena smiled. ‘It means health is better than wealth,’ she added, seeing the woman’s blank look.

  ‘Well, on that point at least we agree, Miss O’Reilly,’ Sarah replied hastily, not wishing to appear uncompassionate yet wishing Sheena and her breezy manner would move on. Again, she couldn’t help wondering what it was about the woman that brought out the worst in her. ‘You were on your way to collect some provisions?’ she asked, forcing a smile as she pointed to the shopping basket.

  ‘Yes, Nanna fancies a fillet of plaice for her luncheon and the fish around here is so fresh, isn’t it? And there is so much choice. Where do you purchase yours from?’

  ‘Well, I … that is to say, I don’t actually do any shopping. Mrs Daws attends to our supplies.’ Then seeing the woman was intent on pursuing the conversation, Sarah smiled. ‘Now I must get on. Good morning, Miss O’Reilly.’

  Ignoring the woman’s hurt look, Sarah made her way back to the school. It must be lovely to have the morning to idle away on shopping, she thought, before remembering the teacher was actually caring for her sick grandmother. She’d make a special effort to be pleasant to her tomorrow, she resolved.

  To her surprise, the doctor was just being shown out of the gates as she arrived back at Red Cliffs. His solemn look told her everything.

  ‘They did all they could, Miss Sullivan, but he never regained consciousness. It might be of some comfort to know that had he come around, it is likely he would have been paralysed.’

  ‘Oh, no, poor Jim – and poor Bess. Where is she now?’

  ‘I dropped her back at the farm before coming here. She was adamant she wanted to be left alone. When I insisted she couldn’t be by herself, she said that nice Miss O’Reilly would be a comfort. Master Higgins offered to call and collect her during his luncheon break.’

  16

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’ Harry asked Sheena, drawing to a halt outside the farmhouse.

  ‘Of course,’ she replied, jumping down from the cart then reaching for her basket. As if by magic, the collie appeared at her side.

  ‘You’ve been guarding that with your life all the way here. What have you got in there, the Crown Jewels?’ Harry quipped.

  ‘No, just some chicken soup I made,’ she told him. ‘I doubt Bess will even think of cooking and she must eat.’

  Harry smiled. ‘Mrs Daws had the same idea, although I think this is vegetable broth,’ he replied, retrieving a dish covered with a cloth from behind his seat.

  ‘Great minds think alike,’ Sheena chuckled, taking it carefully from him. ‘Steady, boy,’ she added as the dog sniffed the air and gave a bark.

  ‘Do you need a hand with that?’ Harry asked.

  ‘I can manage. Even if Bess doesn’t feel up to talking, at least I can make sure she eats something.’

  ‘Tell her I’ll be back to help bed the animals down after lessons. Now, I really must be on my way. Mrs Daws promised to keep the children busy cleaning the house but she’ll probably be in need of a rest by now.’

  ‘I love the way everyone pitches in together,’ Sheena replied.

  ‘It’s the ethos of the school. The founder of Red Cliffs insisted the children had to learn they didn’t get anything for nothing.’

  ‘That’s a good philosophy. Mrs Daws is a hard worker, that’s for sure, and she’s so loving and kind,’ Sheena said. ‘I’ll see you later, Master Higgins.’

  He watched as she made her way inside, the collie following at her heels. What a generous-hearted person she was, giving up her time to spend it with a woman she’d only recently met.

  ‘It’s only me, Bess,’ Sheena called, nudging the door open with her behind.

  The woman looked up and gave a wan smile. She was sitting in her chair beside the hearth, but there was no fire lit in the grate and the room that only the day before had been warm and welcoming was icy cold.

  ‘It was good of you to come,’ she muttered.

  ‘Not at all, Bess. You need a bit of company at a time like this. Now let’s get a blaze going and then I’ll make us some tea.’ Sheena put down her basket and Mrs Daws’ soup on the table, then set about riddling the ashes and lighting a fire.

  ‘There,’ she said, a few moments later, tossing a log onto the flames and putting the kettle on the hob. ‘We’ll be warm in no time. Now, have you had anything to eat today?’

  Bess shook her head. ‘I couldn’t,’ she whispered.

  ‘You need to keep your strength up,’ Sheena said. ‘Is there anyone you would like me to contact for you, Bess?’

  ‘Master Higgins asked the same. I penned a note to my sister earlier and he promised to see it posted. There’s no one else, dear. Not being blessed with children, we kept ourselves busy and were quite happy with our own company.’ She sighed and stared sadly into the fire.

  ‘I’ve made you a blessings candle, Bess. Where I come from, it’s usual to light one to honour our dearly departed
loved one. I’ve decorated yours with snowdrops as they symbolize rebirth, hope and sympathy, which seemed appropriate. Nanna let me borrow one of her candlesticks.’

  She set a flame to the wick but as it flared into life, huge tears began rolling down the older woman’s cheeks.

  ‘Oh, no,’ Sheena cried. ‘I can blow it out. I never meant to upset you, Bess.’

  Bess shook her head. ‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,’ she whispered.

  ‘Here, I’ll put it on the mantel beside you and leave you to open your heart to Jim.’

  At the warmth from the flame, the flowers gave up their perfume, scenting the air with its fresh floral notes. As Bess stared hard at the candle, Sheena poured the soup into a pan and placed it on the range to warm through. While she worked, she could hear the woman muttering quietly to Jim and knew the candle was helping her release her pent-up emotion. However, by the time the kettle was boiling, all had gone quiet and Sheena saw Bess had fallen asleep, faithful collie at her feet. Covering her with a woollen blanket, she went outside to check on the animals.

  Sheena was just forking clean straw for the pigs when she heard the cart rattling up the rutted lane. Despite the sad circumstances, her heart gave a leap.

  Sheena was just about to enter the classroom on Friday afternoon, when she saw Miss Sullivan approaching.

  ‘Good afternoon, Miss O’Reilly. I must confess to wondering if you would turn up today. I understand you’ve been keeping Bess company. How is she?’

  ‘Bess is a stalwart, Miss Sullivan. She’s determined to give Jim a decent send-off tomorrow and is spending the afternoon baking for the wake. As you can see, I am here to teach the girls, after which I will return to the farmhouse to help her.’

  ‘You must let me know if I can assist in any way. We will all be there tomorrow, of course,’ Sarah told her. ‘I expect you’ve been too busy to make those sketches you were talking about?’

  ‘Indeed, I have not, Miss Sullivan. I have them with me so shall we go inside?’

  ‘Good afternoon, Miss Sullivan. Good afternoon, Miss O’Reilly,’ the girls intoned as they entered the classroom.

  ‘Good afternoon, girls. You may sit,’ Sarah told them. ‘Now, the last time I saw you was the day you were at the farm so you will have heard by now the sad news of Farmer Jim,’ she began.

  ‘Such a shame, he were a card,’ Ellen said.

  ‘No, he were a farmer, stupid,’ June lisped.

  ‘He was a fine man,’ Sheena agreed. ‘Bess has sent a message to say she is looking forward to seeing you all tomorrow afternoon and if …’ She paused. ‘If you all work very hard at your needlework this afternoon, she will have lots of her special cakes ready for you.’

  ‘Yes,’ Monday cried.

  ‘That is very kind of her,’ Sally replied. ‘The vicar has asked me to sing the first verse of the Psalm solo. He said Farmer Jim would have liked that. Do you think he would, Miss O’Reilly?’

  ‘I’m sure he will, Sally, for won’t he be listening from his new home up in heaven?’

  ‘I believe Miss O’Reilly has something to show us, girls,’ Sarah intervened.

  ‘Coo, is it a present?’ Monday asked. ‘My dadda always brings me presents when he comes home off his ship. He’s in the Merchant Navy, you know,’ she added proudly.

  Sheena was just taking out the illustrations she’d made when the door flew open.

  ‘Am I too late to join in?’ April asked anxiously.

  ‘Of course not. Come in and sit yourself down,’ Sheena invited. ‘I was just telling everyone that I have drawn pictures of your outfits so you can see what they’ll look like when they’re finished.’ Carefully, she spread each one out on the desks in front of them.

  ‘That’s just how I imagined mine would be,’ Edith cried happily.

  ‘Well, I hadn’t got the foggiest notion,’ Maggie said. ‘But if my dress is going to look like this, then I can’t wait to get stitching.’

  Sheena stared at Sarah, waiting for her verdict.

  ‘I have to admit that was a very good idea. Well done, Miss O’Reilly.’

  Sheena beamed at the unexpected praise.

  ‘Now there will be no excuse not to have them finished in time for the Easter concert,’ Sarah continued. ‘Especially as our Sally, here, is to sing a solo.’

  Ah, the iron fist in the velvet glove, Sheena thought.

  ‘We will certainly do our best,’ she assured the woman. ‘Of course, it would help if we had one of Mr Singer’s fine machines,’ she added hopefully.

  ‘But alas we don’t. Nor the funding to purchase one. Now I’ll leave you to get on,’ Sarah said briskly, and swept from the room.

  ‘Can we start on our sewing now?’ the girls pleaded.

  ‘Indeed you can, my angels,’ Sheena assured them. ‘You’ve seen what beautiful princesses you’re going to look, so remember, only the neatest stitches will do.’

  ‘Princesses,’ Monday cried. ‘Can we have a story later?’

  ‘If you’re very good and work hard,’ Sheena assured them.

  With their pictures to guide them, the girls began sewing. Sheena went around offering help and advice. If only enthusiasm equated to expertise, she thought, unpicking another of June’s crooked seams. Still, at least they were all looking happy. Apart from April, who was stretching the material between her fingers.

  ‘Something wrong?’ Sheena asked, then frowned not at her sewing but the pallor of her cheek. The girl had been so liberal with the use of her powder, she reminded Sheena of icing on a cake.

  ‘This ain’t right,’ April sighed, as Sheena peered over her shoulder.

  ‘Ah, I see what you mean,’ she said, noticing the puckered seam.

  ‘It’s ’cos I use me left hand, see. When I try and sew one way the stitches point the other.’

  ‘Try holding the material at this angle,’ Sheena instructed, taking it from her and demonstrating.

  ‘Blimey, that makes it one ’ell of a lot easier, don’t it?’ April cried delightedly.

  ‘With a little more practice I’m sure you’ll get on really well,’ Sheena encouraged. Leaning closer, she whispered, ‘I notice you’re wearing your powder.’

  April beamed. ‘It don’t half make a difference. Even Pip said he could see it.’

  ‘Well, there’s a little technique I’d like to show you, April. Come and see me when you have time.’

  ‘Coo, I will, miss, thank you.’

  The next afternoon, they buried Jim on the hill that overlooked his beloved farm. Sally sang the first verse of the Twenty-third Psalm, her dulcet tones carrying on the breeze. Then the children joined in with gusto.

  ‘You can’t fault their enthusiasm,’ Mrs Daws said to Sheena, dabbing her eyes with her best handkerchief.

  ‘To be sure, they’re a credit to you all,’ she replied.

  When the vicar had said the last prayer, Solomon handed him a cross fashioned from sticks.

  ‘I made this for ’im,’ he said.

  The vicar took it solemnly. ‘May the Lord bless this cross,’ he intoned, placing it on the grave.

  Sarah and Harry exchanged looks of surprise.

  ‘Maybe, he’s recovering from his ordeal,’ Harry whispered.

  ‘I do hope so,’ she replied.

  ‘And now Bess would like to invite you all into her home for refreshment,’ the vicar said, leading the way back down the hill towards the farmhouse.

  ‘Just look at all that food,’ Pip gasped, as they entered the kitchen. The table was piled high with sandwiches, savouries and cakes. Jugs of cordial stood alongside beakers on the dresser.

  ‘Now, children, remember your manners,’ Sarah reminded them as they eagerly surged forward.

  ‘Let them enjoy themselves, Miss Sullivan,’ Bess said, appearing at her side. ‘They’re the nearest thing we had to family and Jim would have wanted them to have their fill.’

  ‘That’s very kind, Bess. How are you?’ Sarah asked
.

  ‘Bearing up, thank you. Master Higgins and Miss O’Reilly have been a wonderful help. And that girl still is,’ she added, nodding to the range where Sheena was busy pouring hot water into the teapot. ‘They’d make a good couple,’ she sighed wistfully.

  Sarah stared at the woman in surprise. ‘Oh?’ she asked, following the woman’s gaze.

  ‘Goodness me, yes. They’ve both got good hearts, and the same sense of humour. The way they work together reminds me of Jim and me when we were first wed.’ The woman shook her head. ‘You must forgive the mutterings of an old woman, Miss Sullivan. I just like to see people happy like Jim and me were.’

  ‘I see,’ Sarah replied, not sure she did at all. Although she knew Harry and Sheena got on well, the idea of them together in that way was ludicrous. All the same, the thought of them even walking out together made Sarah’s heart lurch.

  ‘Will you be all right here now, Bess?’ Sarah asked quickly, anxious to get the subject back on safer ground.

  Bess nodded. ‘It’s going to be quiet, though.’ She sighed heavily, then glanced over to the candle on the mantel. ‘Miss O’Reilly’s blessings candle has certainly been a comfort.’ Before Sarah could ask what she meant, an elderly woman resembling Bess appeared by their side, proffering cups of tea. ‘This is Alice, my sister. She’s come to stay for a few days,’ Bess explained. ‘Alice, this is Miss Sullivan. She runs the Red Cliffs Ragged School and, believe it or not, those smartly dressed children are her pupils.’

  ‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ the woman said, graciously. ‘I see they are also wearing boots. Perhaps it’s time you removed the “ragged” from the name, Miss Sullivan.’

  ‘Goodness, really?’ she asked, staring over at the children, whom Mrs Daws had scrubbed within an inch of their lives. ‘But my godfather gave the school its title.’

  ‘Ah, well, times change, don’t they? Talking of which, I’m hoping our Bess will come back home with me. A break from the farm will do her good.’

  ‘Just as soon as the livestock have been taken care of, Alice,’ Bess said, smiling as Harry joined them. ‘I’ve just been talking about the animals.’