Orphans and Angels

by Linda Finlay

  ‘Something like that,’ the woman agreed. ‘That was real nice of the ladies to make him a waistcoat like the others. Help him to fit in, it will. The good ladies might be a pain in the backside with their pious ways, but they do come up trumps on occasions.’

  ‘They do,’ Sarah agreed, then, remembering what Miss Prior had said: ‘I didn’t know Jack was ill.’

  ‘Ill?’ the housekeeper looked at Sarah sideways.

  ‘Miss Prior said there was something wrong with his heart,’ Sarah murmured.

  ‘Of course there is, but if you can’t see it well …’ Mrs Daws stuttered to a halt. ‘What’s the school gate doing open?’ she cried.

  Sarah frowned, then peered around. Hearing the sound of banging, she hurried towards the building.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ she called up to the figure on the roof.

  The man stared down and grinned. ‘Begging your pardon, madam, but from where I am the earth looks a fair distance away.’

  ‘It’s all right, Miss Sullivan,’ Harry called. It was only then she saw him standing at the foot of a ladder.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t see you there, Master Higgins,’ she replied.

  ‘Won’t be a minute,’ he added, holding the ladder steady as the man made his descent.

  ‘Miss Sullivan, Mrs Daws, this is Mr Langham, who has kindly offered to give us a price for repairing the roof.’

  ‘Morning, ladies,’ the man smiled. ‘Shouldn’t cost you much, ’Arry old fella, specially as we’re using that wriggly tin,’ he said. ‘And after our discussion, like,’ he added with a wink.

  ‘Knew you’d see us right, Mr Langham,’ Harry replied. ‘How quickly do you think you can fit us in?’

  The man scratched his head. ‘Well, like I said, we’ve just finished that ’ere new terrace of ’ouses over back of Torre and we’re not due to start a new one till middle of month.’ He scratched his head. ‘Could start first thing tomorrow, if ers like?’

  ‘That is good news, isn’t it, Miss Sullivan?’ Harry said, turning to Sarah.

  ‘Well …’ she began, but Mrs Daws interrupted.

  ‘Jolly well is. April and Pip have spent that much time mopping up water recently I’m surprised they’ve not grown webbed feet. Now, Mr Langham,’ she said, smiling at the man.

  ‘Call me Marty, Mrs Daws,’ he replied.

  ‘Well then, Marty, see you arrive about seven o’clock and I’ll have breakfast and a cuppa waiting.’

  ‘You’re a treasure, Mrs D.’ Marty grinned. ‘See yer tomorrow then,’ he said. He doffed his cap then strode off down the drive.

  ‘I know you mean well, Harry, but surely you could have discussed it with me before agreeing,’ Sarah frowned.

  ‘Well, he doesn’t look the sort to make off with me gong,’ Mrs Daws commented. ‘Now I’m going to put my feet up and make the most of what’s left of my free time,’ she added as Harry chuckled.

  As the woman made her way indoors, Sarah turned to the master.

  ‘You can take that grin off your face, Harry Higgins,’ she scolded.

  ‘I did say I’d arrange things,’ he replied, rubbing his forehead. ‘Now I’m going home to work on my brilliant plan for obtaining extra funding from the Local Authority.’

  ‘Really, what plan?’ Sarah asked.

  But Harry’s head was throbbing from his late night.

  ‘Not today,’ he added, wincing. ‘We’ll discuss it first thing tomorrow.’

  ‘Feeling better?’ Sarah asked when he popped his head around her office door early the next morning.

  He nodded ruefully then took a sheet of paper from his pocket.

  ‘Said plan,’ he said, laying it on the desk in front of her. She frowned at the scribbled notes, so unlike his usual neat handwriting.

  ‘This looks like one of the children’s offerings,’ she tutted. ‘You’d better sit down and talk me through it.’

  ‘As you know, the foundry made tools, which they sold in their workshop,’ he said, straddling the chair in front of her. ‘I’ve examined those we were able to salvage and with some judicious cleaning and repair think they should come up like the new tools most of them actually are.’

  ‘But they’re Solomon’s. You can’t sell them,’ Sarah cried, staring at him aghast.

  ‘Who said anything about selling them?’ Harry asked, grinning in a way Sarah was finding annoying.

  ‘Will you please get to the point?’ she snapped.

  Harry raised an eyebrow. ‘Solomon recovered a small grindstone and, having spoken to him, I agree that we will be able to use it to resharpen the salvaged tools once they have been cleaned up, and any that are bent or misshapen can be hammered back into shape without the need of a forge. We can also set up a simple pole lathe to make the rounded wooden handles for some of the tools, and a shave horse to cut and shape the shafts for the others. In this way, we can teach the boys the new trades of woodturning and metalwork. As these are recognized industrial skills, this means we can apply to the Local Authority for extra funding in recognition of the boys obtaining competencies.’

  ‘If they agree, it would certainly help with our finances as well as boosting the reputation of Red Cliffs,’ Sarah smiled.

  ‘I was thinking more about the boys’ futures than the school’s image,’ Harry replied.

  ‘That as well, of course,’ Sarah agreed quickly.

  ‘If, at the end of the day, we are able to sell some of the reconditioned tools, then any profit made could be shared between Solomon and Red Cliffs. We could open an account in the boy’s name and the funds would help set him up when he leaves here.’

  ‘That sounds a good idea,’ Sarah said, nodding thoughtfully. ‘You’ve obviously given this a lot of thought.’

  ‘I have,’ he agreed. ‘Good tools are in high demand, especially with all the new building work going on in the area.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ she conceded. ‘We must remember we are entering a new age and the school needs to move with the times.’

  ‘Move, as in accepting one of the offers from the developers?’ he asked. ‘Because that was something else I was thinking about. Lady Chorlton just might have a good point about throwing good money after bad and …’ Seeing two red spots of anger staining her cheeks, he stuttered to a halt.

  ‘Don’t even think it, Harry Higgins,’ she cried. ‘My godfather set up Red Cliffs here and here we are staying.’

  ‘I was only going to …’ he began, but his words were drowned by the sound of a cart rattling past the window.

  ‘If you’ve nothing else to discuss, I see your builder has arrived,’ Sarah snapped.

  Monday morning and she was still in a quandary as to what she should do. Unable to stay indoors any longer, Sheena snatched up her bag and took herself for a long walk along the seafront. The weather was brisk just like her footsteps, as she pounded the pavement.

  People dressed in their finery were emerging from the plush hotel set back from the promenade, intent on walking off their breakfasts. Sheena waited to cross the road, which was busy with carts transporting their goods, and carriages conveying their ladies. She couldn’t help smiling as the vehicles, heedless of their passengers, kicked up dust and strands of dried seaweed in their wake. Clearly dirt didn’t differentiate between classes.

  As she walked, she prayed for guidance. After her previous upsetting experience, back home, she couldn’t afford to make any more mistakes. Should she return to Red Cliffs or resign her post? In the few short weeks that she’d been at the school she had grown to love the children, and her position as travelling schoolmistress offered her the chance to rebuild her career.

  However, the fact remained that not only did Miss Sullivan lack faith in her ability as a teacher, she didn’t appear to like her either. Then there was Master Higgins. Despite herself, her heart flipped when she thought of him. She enjoyed working with him and they’d built up a rapport. However, apparently, he and Miss Sullivan had an understanding. And that was the
trouble, she admitted. Somehow, somewhere along the line, camaraderie had tipped into …

  ‘Good morning, Miss O’Reilly.’ Hearing her name, Sheena looked up in surprise and found herself staring into the face of Sarah Sullivan. She was dressed in her best blue outfit and was accompanied by another smartly dressed woman.

  ‘Good morning to you, Miss Sullivan,’ she replied politely.

  ‘Miss Harmon, allow me to present our travelling mistress, Miss O’Reilly,’ Sarah said, turning to her companion.

  ‘We met before at your interview, of course, Miss O’Reilly,’ Miss Harmon smiled. ‘How are you settling into Red Cliffs?’

  ‘Well, I …’ Sheena began.

  ‘She is doing splendidly,’ Sarah replied, to Sheena’s amazement. ‘The children have really taken to her. I must say, Miss O’Reilly, I was pleased with the results of their needlework. To have them singing to the rhythm of a sewing machine is simply genius. I have no doubt whatsoever that they will all be wearing their new outfits for the Easter concert.’

  ‘Really?’ Sheena gasped, astonished at the woman’s praise. ‘I mean, I’m glad you approve,’ she murmured.

  ‘You must be on your way to Red Cliffs now, so we mustn’t detain you,’ Sarah continued. Sheena glanced around, astonished to find that she was nearly back at her grandmother’s house. Somehow she must have reached the end of the promenade and turned around without realizing it.

  Miss Sullivan was still talking. ‘I have left the girls in the capable hands of Mrs Daws, so that Miss Harmon and I can exchange our ideas on suffrage over a light luncheon before our women’s meeting,’ Sarah was saying. ‘If you could go and rescue her directly, I’d be most obliged. Good day, Miss O’Reilly.’ Before Sheena could answer she turned away.

  ‘Nice to see you again, Miss O’Reilly. So pleased you have settled in well at Red Cliffs,’ Miss Harmon smiled, then followed Sarah.

  Sheena stared after them for a full minute before realizing she was standing in the middle of the footway obstructing other people. Well, you asked for divine intervention, Sheena O’Reilly, and you have been given your answer, she told herself, heading determinedly towards Red Cliffs.

  22

  Having decided the prices in the restaurant of the hotel they’d passed would probably be beyond their means, Sarah and Josephine Harmon had ventured into the little café close by. Now they were sitting at a table in the window sharing a pot of tea along with the house speciality, Devon Chudleighs, which were light as a feather and liberally spread with cream and plum jam.

  They were on their way to a meeting of the National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies later that afternoon and were debating the best way to publicize their mission. While women had made some advances in local government, the campaign for the right to vote for Parliament was moving forward very slowly. It was an exciting time and Sarah was keen to do her part to further the cause.

  ‘Do you know that gentleman over there?’ Josephine asked, lowering her voice as she inclined her head towards the right. ‘Only he’s been staring at you ever since he came in.’

  Sarah frowned at the interruption to their conversation, but couldn’t resist taking a surreptitious peek at the next table. Her eyes widened in amazement when she found herself looking directly into the bright blue eyes of the gentleman she’d seen staring out of the window in Hesketh Crescent. He nodded in acknowledgement but she turned quickly away.

  ‘Bit of a dandy, that one – who is he?’ Josephine whispered, taking another look. ‘And not short of a bob or two either, from the way he’s dressed. Would’ve thought he’d be taking refreshment in the hotel rather than here.’

  ‘Shh,’ Sarah chided, feeling her cheeks growing hot. She picked up her cup and concentrated on finishing her tea. However, she could still feel his gaze upon her and couldn’t resist another look. This time he smiled warmly before returning to the notebook in front of him.

  ‘Now what were we saying?’ she said, turning back to her friend and seeing her amused look.

  ‘You were expounding the view that women shouldn’t be tied to the kitchen sink by their husbands. Saying they should have a fair say in how the country is run. In fact, you even went so far as declaring that the days of us needing a male in our lives were coming to an end.’ Josephine paused for effect. ‘Of course, that was before you got distracted by that handsome specimen at the next table. Who, by the way, is now staring at you as if he’s committing your every feature to his memory.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ Sarah hissed, choosing to forget that was exactly how she’d felt as she’d passed by his house in Lady Chorlton’s carriage. ‘He’s probably trying to glimpse the sea from out of the window,’ she added, gesturing towards the promenade beyond, where tourists were taking the afternoon air.

  ‘Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,’ Josephine chuckled.

  ‘If you’ve quite finished, perhaps we should be making our way to the meeting,’ Sarah suggested, jumping to her feet and snatching up her bag so suddenly, one of her gloves fell to the floor.

  ‘Allow me,’ a rich, well-modulated voice offered. Before she could reply, the gentleman from the next table had retrieved it and was holding it before her.

  ‘Oh, er, thank you,’ Sarah stammered.

  ‘Absolutely my pleasure,’ he replied, blue eyes twinkling. ‘Bertram J. Brightling at your service.’ He gave a polite bow and Sarah couldn’t help but notice the incredible sheen to his dark hair. Or that he was wearing the same tweed jacket as before with another brightly coloured cravat tucked into the neck of his shirt.

  Quickly taking the proffered glove, she hurried from the café. The exchange could only have taken a matter of moments and yet she felt flustered, almost as if she’d stepped off one of the gallopers at the fair. Honestly, Sarah, she chided, one look from a stranger and you’re acting like a silly schoolgirl.

  ‘Well, you could at least have had the good grace to give him your name,’ Josephine scolded, joining her outside.

  ‘Give my name to whom?’ Sarah muttered, still feeling ruffled.

  ‘To Bertram J. Brightling,’ Josephine giggled. ‘Some name, eh? And did you see his hair? It was slicked back with the new brilliantine that has recently come over from France. According to my brother-in-law, it costs an absolute fortune.’

  Oh, so that’s what it was, Sarah thought, glancing back over her shoulder. He stood watching her out of the window and raised his hand in acknowledgement. Cross at being caught out once more, she walked briskly away.

  ‘For someone who professes to have no interest, you are acting very strangely,’ said Josephine. Determined to focus her attention on the meeting ahead, Sarah pretended not to hear.

  Having decided the gods had shown her the way, Sheena trudged resolutely towards Red Cliffs. She loved her job and the children, and would focus her energy on them. As for Harry Higgins, well, it would be stupid to think she could avoid him, but she would make sure that, whenever their paths crossed, she kept their dealings on a professional level. No more giddy feelings or fancy words, Sheena my girl. You might hail from the Emerald Isle but you are no longer as green as the proverbial leprechaun.

  Having finished giving herself a strong talking to, Sheena called good afternoon to Pip and headed for the classroom. She could hear banging and whistling coming from the roof and guessed the repair work had begun. Then she noticed Solomon waiting in the doorway.

  ‘Miss O’Reilly, Master ’Iggins said could you please sew me button on for me?’ he greeted her.

  ‘To be sure, Solomon, and may I say how very smart you’re looking in your red waistcoat.’

  ‘Thanks, miss,’ he said, looking relieved. ‘I was dead chuffed when Miss Sullivan gave it me. Makes me feel like the others, but then this came off,’ he frowned, holding up the little bone button. ‘I told Master ’Iggins I could …’

  ‘Master Higgins said it needed seeing to straight away and that you should be more careful in the future,’ Harry finished for h
im, as he appeared from the workshop next door. Despite her resolve, Sheena’s heart did its usual flip at the sight of him. ‘I hope you don’t mind my suggesting you would sew it back on, Miss O’Reilly,’ Harry continued. ‘Only these buttons the good ladies use are all matching and it would be a shame if it were to get lost.’

  ‘That’s quite all right, Master Higgins,’ Sheena said quickly, ushering Solomon into the classroom and avoiding Harry’s gaze. ‘We’ve just got time before the girls appear for their needlework lesson.’

  ‘Oh, well, I’ll leave you to it then,’ Harry said, looking put out by her haste.

  ‘Fink ’e was using it as an excuse to speak to you, miss,’ Solomon said, giving her a cheeky grin.

  ‘Solomon Smith, now why would he do that?’ she asked, staring at him in surprise.

  ‘Well, you can tell ’e likes you by the way ’e looks at you. ’Sides, I said I could sew this on meself,’ he chirped, holding out the button to her.

  ‘Really? Well, Master Higgins thought it would be better done straight away so it didn’t get lost,’ she said, taking it from him and threading a needle.

  ‘Then why when I told ’im first thing this morning it had come off, did ’e only have ’is brilliant idea when ’e saw Pip letting you in through the gate?’ he asked, two dark eyes studying her knowingly.

  She felt her insides flip. Be still, my treacherous heart, she admonished herself. Thankfully she was saved from answering the boy by the arrival of Edith and Maggie.

  ‘We didn’t see any sign of Shanksy on our way in, miss,’ Maggie giggled, nudging Edith in the side. ‘He’s not real, is he?’

  The door opened again but as the other girls swarmed into the room, Solomon put his fingers to his lips.

  ‘Don’t want to spoil the younger ones’ fun, do we?’ he winked. ‘Got to ’ave somefink to believe in, ain’t they?’

  ‘Thank you, Solomon,’ Sheena replied. ‘That’s very sensitive of you. Now there’s your button sewn on nice and tight, so off you go.’

  As he ran back to the workshop, Sheena clapped her hands. ‘Right, girls, collect your work and begin sewing. I’ll come round and see how you’re getting on.’