by Linda Finlay
‘Well, I shall be supervising the girls at supper and will also keep an eye on him. Poor chap, the realization that his father’s dead is probably only just sinking in.’
‘I’ve a hunch it’s more than that. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, and by the way, there’s no need to change the wording of grace at the table. As far as I’m aware it contains no expletives.’
‘Funny, ha ha,’ she grimaced. ‘I’ll leave you to lock up then. Remember me to your mother.’
‘I will. We shall certainly have much to discuss over the supper table.’
Sarah slept badly that night. Her conciliatory overtures to the girls hadn’t been altogether successful and she was mortified her good intentions had been misunderstood. Although they’d listened and nodded at her explanation they’d left the table as soon as they could. Later, when she’d outlined the verger’s proposal for the Sunday soup kitchen to Mrs Daws, the housekeeper had said she couldn’t contemplate any changes until she knew what the master was doing.
Outside the wind was howling like a banshee and Sarah hoped none of the tiles would blow off. Finally, unable to stand it a moment longer, she lit a candle and dressed. Creeping out of her room, past the deserted kitchen and down the corridor, she let herself into the sanctity of her office.
Shivering in the cold of early morning, she set light to the fire Pip had laid the previous evening, then settled at her desk. Ignoring the pile of invoices and letters requiring her attention, she drew out Mrs Knight’s book, hoping to draw some inspiration from her pearls of wisdom. As she flicked through the pages, one in particular seemed to jump out at her.
Fifth Principle (a): Never Assume You Know Best
Ascertain the requirements of people using your business and endeavour to fulfil them. It is no good providing a goodly stock of the finest silk if they only have the means to purchase muslin.
Like her trying to teach the girls words beyond their capabilities, Sarah realized. How had she not seen it herself?
Fifth Principle (b): Gaining Trust
Gaining trust takes time and requires the client having total confidence in your recommendations. Strive to meet their requirements and never presume you know better. By all means suggest an alternative if you truly think it will serve their needs. BUT only do this if you know it to be suitable and not beyond them. A blouse sewn in sateen might look more stylish for the evening than cotton, but only if the person has the capabilities to master the more difficult material.
Like Edith and her pointing out the voile would be hard to work on, she remembered. Banishing thoughts of the disastrous lesson of the previous day, she read on.
Fifth Principle (c): Keeping Trust
Once gained, work hard to maintain the client’s trust. Their satisfaction is paramount and will see them eager to return. Take an interest in them, remember what you have recommended and reassure them you will always be here if they should need any help.
Sarah put her head in her hands. She’d spent the last four months or so gaining the girls’ trust and yet they’d left her in no doubt they were not looking forward to her next lesson in ‘proper speaking’, as they called it. Well, she’d just have to try to get the balance right, she determined, turning the page.
Sixth Principle: Gaining Confidence
Once you have gained their trust consolidate this by gently instilling their confidence in you. This ensures that should anything go wrong they will feel comfortable talking to you, thus giving you the opportunity to rectify the situation. It takes years to build your good reputation yet only one dissatisfied client to ruin it in a moment.
As a vision of the girls’ despondent faces surfaced, Sarah groaned. Yet again she wondered how she could have been so stupid as to try to teach them the way she had. Well, she would do her best to rectify the situation. Pulling her notepad from the drawer, she wrote herself a list:
1. Never assume you know best – remember to work at the girls’ level.
2. Regain their trust – teach them something they’ll understand.
3. Ask questions and ensure they are not struggling with anything.
4. Confidence – build their own and let them know they can ask about things they are not sure of.
She was just wondering if there was anything she could add when there was a knock on the door. Recognizing it as the schoolmaster’s, she felt her heart begin thumping in her chest. Had he reached a decision? Red Cliffs without Harry was unthinkable.
‘Come in,’ she called briskly to hide her nerves.
‘Good morning,’ Harry said, towering over her desk in the grey dawn light. She looked up, trying to ascertain his mood but his expression gave nothing away.
‘Do take a seat,’ she said formally. Without saying anything he straddled the seat in his usual manner. ‘How is your mother?’ she asked politely.
‘She’s cross, actually,’ he replied, looking down at the desk. That the woman should be annoyed with her came as no surprise.
‘I’m sorry,’ Sarah sighed.
‘So am I,’ he muttered. ‘She’s been going on all night. As you know, Mother was fond of the doctor, and Red Cliffs is a cause close to her heart. She says such foolishness is futile.’
‘I agree and can only apologize again for my stupidity,’ Sarah replied.
‘What?’ he cried, staring at her in surprise.
‘I agree I have been foolish and …’ Her voice trailed off as he held up his hand.
‘Not you, me,’ he spluttered. ‘Mother pointed out running this place is a full-time job in itself, without having to take the girls’ classes until a new schoolmistress is appointed. She told me that, as the master, I should have given you a run-down of each of their capabilities.’
‘Goodness,’ Sarah murmured, marvelling at this turn of events. ‘Does this mean you’ll stay?’
‘I got a right flea in my ear for tendering my resignation,’ he admitted, looking shamefaced. ‘So, Miss Sullivan, I’d be grateful if you would consider it rescinded. Really, I was just letting off steam but things got out of hand.’ He leaned his elbows on the desk and stared at Sarah in a way that quite unnerved her. As a mixture of relief and emotion flooded through her, she smiled for the first time that day.
‘Oh, I see,’ she replied, frowning as she considered her next words. ‘I’m sorry …’
‘I’m really sorry …’ he began at the same time. They stopped, stared at each other and then burst out laughing.
‘What are we like?’ Sarah said, just as the door opened and Mrs Daws came in carrying a tray.
‘Heard all the mirth and thought as you’d both come to your senses you could have your early morning tea in here. Even made you some toast,’ the housekeeper sniffed virtuously. ‘No doubt you’ve got a lot to discuss so April and Pip can supervise breakfast,’ she added, giving them one of her knowing looks.
‘Mrs Daws, have I ever told you what a wonderful woman you are?’ Harry asked, jumping to his feet and throwing his arms around the woman’s shoulders.
‘No need to go overboard,’ she muttered, but Sarah could see by the flush on her cheeks that she was pleased. ‘Anyway, being as how you says the soup kitchen’s to be moved, I thought I’d ask if I could take some time off each Sunday. This weather makes my legs play up something chronic and some extra rest would help.’
‘Of course, Mrs Daws, you do quite enough as it is,’ Sarah assured her. ‘I’ll let you know the exact arrangements when I’ve confirmed them with the verger.’
‘Thanks, Miss Sullivan. Well, this won’t get the porridge served,’ she muttered.
As the door closed behind her, Harry looked askance. Quickly she outlined the details of the verger’s proposal to relocate the soup kitchen to the church hall.
‘That would certainly make life easier,’ Harry agreed. ‘I do worry about Mrs Daws’ workload. She never seems to stop.’
‘I know and I think we should get the older children helping more. But only if you, as schoolmaster, thi
nk that would be appropriate, of course?’ she asked, her lips twitching.
He raised his brows but instead of smiling looked serious.
‘So much is changing, I think we need to devise a new timetable. However, first things first,’ he said, proffering the plate of toast.
Suddenly realizing how hungry she was, Sarah took a slice. Mrs Daws had been generous with the butter and she licked her lips appreciatively and stared at the fire. It had taken hold and the glowing coals made the room warm and cosy. As the two of them munched in contented silence, Sarah found herself relaxing.
‘What’s that?’ Harry asked, screwing up his eyes as he tried to decipher what she’d written on her notepad.
‘Oh, just a few things I jotted down,’ she replied. Not wishing to admit she’d been gathering inspiration from Mrs Knight’s principles, she slid it into her drawer along with the book. ‘We really need to talk finances, I’m afraid.’
‘What’s new?’ he asked, raising his brows.
‘As you know the roof’s leaking again and we need to get it repaired as soon as possible. I hate resorting to Lady Chorlton but needs must. I was hoping she might help with the funding but I’ve heard from Mr Fothergill that she’s in mourning for our late Queen and can’t see me yet so …’ She stopped as the door opened with a sudden bang.
‘It’s the new boy, miss,’ Pip cried. ‘He’s covered in red spots and groaning like he’s in pain.’
6
Sarah hurried upstairs and into the boys’ dormitory. The curtains were still drawn, although the material was so faded the daylight penetrated enough for her to make out the bed Solomon was in. He had the cover pulled up over his face, but she could tell from his irregular breathing he wasn’t asleep.
‘How are you, Solomon?’ she asked softly. There was no response although his body stilled. Gently she eased back the cover.
‘’Ere, ’ands off, you’re a woman,’ he protested.
‘It’s Miss Sullivan. I’ve come to see how you are,’ Sarah told him, ignoring his protests. ‘Pip told me you have a rash and I need to see it, so please open your nightshirt.’ He glared at her warily but she stared back at him, and he grudgingly did as he’d been asked.
‘Goodness, you are certainly smothered in spots,’ she cried, staring down at the livid red rash that covered his body.
‘’Tis all up me arms, too,’ he said, holding them up for her to see. ‘I feel ’orrible and ’ot,’ he moaned. Sarah reached out and felt his forehead. It didn’t feel overly warm to her, and although he was still looking at her warily, she saw that his eyes were clear. As if sensing her doubt, he groaned and frantically began rubbing his body.
‘I’ll send April to get Dr Hawkins,’ Sarah told him, pulling the cover back over him.
‘It’s probably something catching so you’d best send me to the infirmary straight away.’ A prickle of fear crept up her spine. Supposing he was contagious and the others had already been infected?
‘Don’t fret, Solomon. I’ll go and consult with Master Higgins and see what he thinks,’ she told him, patting his hand.
‘No! Got to go to the infirmary now,’ he cried.
‘I’ll get Mrs Daws to make you a hot drink to calm you,’ she added quickly.
‘Don’t want no drink,’ he protested. ‘Just get me to the infirmary. You’ll be sorry if I die.’ Swallowing down her fears, Sarah hurried to the kitchen.
‘How is he?’ Mrs Daws asked, looking up from the pot she was stirring.
‘Covered in spots and scratching. He doesn’t appear to be running a temperature, though. I said I’d get the doctor to look at him but he insisted on being taken to the infirmary immediately,’ she murmured.
‘Never known a child ask to be taken to hospital before,’ the housekeeper muttered. ‘Hope it’s nothing infectious, though, ’cos things go through here like a dose of salts.’
‘Precisely, and that’s why we can’t be too careful,’ Harry said, coming into the room. ‘Send April straight down to the surgery,’ he instructed. He waited until the door had closed behind her, then turned to Sarah. ‘We must be careful not to alarm the pupils, but until the doctor has diagnosed the rash, they must stay on the premises.’
‘But April can go?’
‘She’s had the usual childhood ailments so should be all right. However, I’ll instruct Pip only to let Dr Hawkins through the gates. Heaven help us if it’s something serious,’ he sighed.
‘Will you still be taking their lessons this morning?’ she asked.
‘Yes. Better to keep to their routine. No point in alarming them until we know what it is.’
‘I can take the girls for sewing this afternoon instead of their normal lesson with you, if you like,’ Sarah offered, desperate to do something useful.
He frowned. ‘We’ll play it by ear, I think. If Solomon is carrying something contagious, Dr Hawkins will need to examine everyone. Let me know when he arrives.’
‘Of course …’ she began, but he was already marching towards the school room.
‘April’s gone for the doctor so I’ll make Solomon one of my tinctures,’ Mrs Daws said, bustling back into the room.
‘That’s kind,’ Sarah smiled.
‘Poor little mite. Suppose his system’s all upset after losing his father like that. Still, like I said, in all my years I’ve never known a child ask to go to the hospital.’
‘Well, I’m sure Dr Hawkins will tell us if that is necessary,’ Sarah said. ‘With April busy, you’ll need some help in here, Mrs Daws, so what can I do?’
‘I’m thinking a nice nourishing broth will go down well, so if you would get some vegetables and prepare them for the pot, I’d be grateful, Miss Sullivan.’
Although Sarah was quick, by the time she returned from the store shed, Mrs Daws had already prepared her potion.
‘I’ll take this up to Solomon and sit with him till the doctor arrives. Just hope he’s not busy. I told April to say it was urgent but …’ The woman shrugged, then hurried away.
As Sarah scraped and diced the carrots and turnips, her thoughts were a jumble. Being a new arrival Solomon had possibly brought something unpleasant with him. What illness took so long for the rash to emerge, though? She thought back to the days she’d helped her father in his surgery in Plymouth, yet couldn’t recollect ever having seen anything similar. Those spots were a vivid red and all differing shapes and sizes. It was most odd. And the boy wasn’t running a fever either.
She’d just covered the prepared vegetables with water and put the pot to simmer when the pupils came surging in for their morning drinks.
‘How’s Solomon, Miss Sullivan?’ Sally asked, setting out the beakers in a neat line.
‘We’re still waiting for the doctor to call. However, Mrs Daws is sitting with him,’ Sarah reassured the girl.
‘Hope ’e ain’t brought nuffink catchin’ with ’im,’ Kitty muttered, reverting to her old way of speaking.
‘Might be the plague,’ Brown announced delightedly.
‘Or that scarlet whatsit,’ Black shrieked.
‘I’m sure it’s nothing serious,’ Sarah said, frowning at the boys.
‘What if wes gets it?’ Monday asked, staring at Sarah in horror.
‘I’m certain all will be well. But if we were to catch something, Dr Hawkins, being a clever man, will make us all better,’ Sarah reassured them quickly.
‘Dr Hawkins will be here as soon as he’s finished bandaging his patient,’ April announced, coming into the room.
‘Coo, ’as someone broken somethink?’ Brown cried.
‘Who wants one of my special biscuits?’ April asked, ignoring him. As the children clamoured around her excitedly, Sarah gave thanks for the girl’s perception and kind heart.
‘As the weather’s nice, you can eat them in the fresh air,’ Sarah said, shooing them outside.
It was noon by the time the doctor arrived. Harry showed him upstairs, telling Pip to supervise the children, who were fil
ing into the dining room for their meal.
‘Well, Solomon’s still insisting he be taken to the infirmary. It was the first thing he said to Dr Hawkins. I must say, he’s very vocal for someone so poorly,’ the housekeeper said, carefully setting the empty cup down on the table. ‘Drank that like a fish, then asked for food, would you believe? Why bless you, Miss Sullivan, you’ve got lunch all prepared.’
‘I was pleased to help. Now, the children are waiting so shall I dish up?’ Sarah asked.
‘If you wouldn’t mind. Then while you’re doing that, I’ll start on making young Solomon a nice sponge. Happen he’ll appreciate a little treat.’ Sarah looked at the housekeeper in surprise. Surely the boy wasn’t up to eating cake? However, not wishing to question the woman’s ways, she began ladling the broth into the serving dishes. April and Pip had just carried them through to the tables when Mrs Daws bustled back from the pantry.
‘Either I’m getting senile and forgetting where I put things or there’s a thief about,’ she muttered, placing eggs and flour on the scrubbed table.
‘What do you mean, Mrs Daws?’
‘I thought I’d make the poor boy one of my marble cakes. A bit of colour always tempts the appetite. Oh well, he’ll have to make do with a plain one,’ she muttered, reaching for her mixing bowl.
Sarah was just wondering what to do next when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. She hurried out to the hallway where the doctor was talking to the master.
‘How is he, Doctor?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Insisting he be taken to the infirmary straight away,’ he replied. ‘And I’ve a good mind to send him there.’
Sarah exchanged a bewildered look with Harry. ‘He’s that poorly?’ she gasped.
‘No, Miss Sullivan, he is not. In fact, he’s not ill at all.’
‘But those spots?’
‘A clever bit of artistry,’ he replied, holding up a little bottle and a twig.
‘Cochineal!’ Harry cried.
