by Linda Finlay
‘Indeed, Master Higgins,’ the doctor grimaced. ‘Who would have thought colouring obtained from the common beetle could wreak such havoc. I could almost find it funny if he hadn’t taken me away from a surgery of people who really do need my attention.’
‘I’m so sorry, Dr Hawkins,’ Sarah murmured. ‘If only I’d inspected those spots more carefully.’
‘Well, you had no reason to suspect him, did you? Although in future, it might pay to check the back of the body and not just the front,’ the doctor pointed out, not unkindly.
‘I’ll kill the boy,’ Harry roared. ‘I’ve spent this morning making contingency plans in case he had something infectious and we had an epidemic on our hands.’
‘At least it hasn’t come to that. However, when Solomon found out his plan had failed, he got quite hysterical. I’ve given him a sedative, Miss Sullivan, and here’s another one in case he should need it,’ the doctor said, passing Sarah a twist of paper. ‘When he’s recovered, no doubt you will impress upon him the error of his ways, Master Higgins.’ Doctor Hawkins picked up his Gladstone bag to leave, but hesitated at the door. ‘You might like to find out why he was so desperate to be taken to the infirmary, though.’
‘I certainly will, Dr Hawkins,’ Sarah replied, although a suspicion was already forming.
‘I can’t help thinking about that poor little mite, Solomon,’ Mrs Daws said, stretching her legs out in front of the range. The children had gone to bed and they were relaxing after the traumas of the day. ‘He must have been desperate to see his father to go to such lengths.’
‘Poor chap didn’t realize he was no longer at the infirmary. When I explained, he went berserk and I had to give him the other sedative,’ Harry sighed. ‘He’ll probably sleep until morning now, but Pip has promised to keep an eye on him.’
‘I suppose it’s normal he should want to see his father’s body but why didn’t he just ask?’ Sarah said. ‘Or why didn’t I guess?’
‘The same could be said of me,’ Harry added. ‘Solomon did say he wanted to go and see him the night he ran away but in view of the state of the man’s body, I told him it was probably best to remember him as he was,’ Harry admitted. ‘Perhaps I was wrong.’
‘Me and all,’ the housekeeper replied. ‘I suppose he needed to see to accept. Say goodbye, as it were. Still, at least I know I’m not going senile,’ she chuckled, holding up the nearly empty cochineal bottle. ‘Though if it’s all right with you, Miss Sullivan, I think I’ll get Bert to put a lock on the pantry. I can’t risk any more of my baking ingredients going walkabout.’
‘Indeed, we can’t risk upsetting our pistoriophile, can we?’ Harry said, grinning at the housekeeper.
‘What’s that when it’s at home?’ the woman asked.
‘It’s someone who loves baking, Mrs Daws,’ he explained.
‘Well, why didn’t you just say that then? You and your weird words,’ the housekeeper scoffed, getting to her feet. ‘Now I’m going to have a wally before bed.’
‘A what?’ Sarah asked.
‘One of my pickled gherkins.’
‘Now who’s using weird words, Mrs Daws?’ Harry chuckled.
‘At least we’ve settled Bert’s invoice,’ Sarah said, stifling a yawn. ‘Goodness, I’m tired. Oh, we never did get round to drawing up the new timetable,’ she cried, staring at Harry in dismay.
‘Well, we are certainly not going to do it now. I’ll come in early tomorrow. By the way, Kitty said she would prefer to go to the farm on Saturday rather than do any more sewing.’
‘Oh, she did, did she?’ Sarah asked. ‘She made a right mess of the dress she chose to work on so she needn’t think she’s getting out of putting it right.’
‘I said I would check with you but she assured me you were adamant girls should be treated the same as boys so it was bound to be all right.’
‘Sharp as a tack, that one,’ Mrs Daws said, biting into her pickle.
‘Hoist by your own petard, I think, Miss Sullivan,’ Harry chuckled, and Sarah couldn’t help but join in.
It was Saturday evening, and Sarah and Harry, having escaped the confines of Red Cliffs for a few hours, were enjoying their fish supper in a nearby restaurant. This being bath night, Mrs Laver and Mrs Daws had seen to the children, giving Sarah time to get ready for their date. Having become adept at making the most of the cast-off clothing that regularly arrived at Red Cliffs, she had put together an outfit suitably smart for the occasion. Her forest-green dress with its frilled sleeves set off her colouring, and the amber stone brooch pinned at the throat added the final touch. Even her usually wayward hair, tamed by vigorous brushing, now sat in a neat chignon.
‘… And then Kitty told Farmer Jim that she hoped the hens were on the point of lay,’ Harry grinned, seemingly oblivious to the pains she’d taken with her appearance.
‘Poor Farmer Jim,’ Sarah murmured. ‘I should think he was affronted at having a young girl telling him his job.’
‘Not a bit of it. He was impressed by her knowledge and said we’d have to wait a little longer in that case. While the others were mucking out the stables, he asked lots of questions about the farm they were raised on. Luke came to life and replied enthusiastically as well. Jim and Bess would have loved children of their own, but it wasn’t to be. Anyway, while Kitty helped Bess skin the rabbits ready for the pot, they had a good old natter about how to care for the poultry.’
‘Obviously the girl is more cut out for farming than sewing,’ Sarah chuckled.
‘There’s nothing wrong with that. She might even end up becoming a farmer’s wife,’ he pointed out, spearing a chip with his fork.
‘Or even have her own farm,’ Sarah threw back quickly.
‘Now that’s hardly likely, is it?’
‘No, I guess not. It’s not fair that women are still beholden to men in this day and age,’ Sarah said.
‘We’re not all tyrants, you know,’ Harry smiled. ‘In fact, some of us would love a woman to cherish and care for,’ he added, his eyes softening as he stared at her meaningfully. ‘Especially one who looks as beautiful as you do tonight.’ As he continued gazing at her, Sarah looked down at her plate, toying with her fish. ‘Don’t you ever dream of having a man to look after you?’ he persisted.
Carefully, she put down her knife and fork.
‘Jack Wise asked the same thing only the other day.’ He frowned and she went on quickly, ‘I told him I was far too busy looking after Red Cliffs and that my ambition is to help the pupils reach their potential so they can secure good jobs.’
‘That’s commendable, but you also have your own life to consider,’ Harry advised.
‘I know, and just as soon as a new schoolmistress is appointed I intend spending more time on the people and issues that are dear to my heart. In fact, I received a letter this morning from the Local Authority confirming they have found a suitable candidate and will be sending her along for an interview later this month.’
Harry smiled at her delightedly. ‘We shall have to make some plans then.’
‘We? Why, Harry, I hardly think you’ll be interested in attending meetings of the National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies,’ she laughed. ‘It’s time women had a say in what happens in Parliament, time we were eligible to vote. I understand the movement is very active round here and I intend helping them further their cause.’ Looking at her impassioned expression, Harry felt his heart sinking. She seemed like a different woman from the one who arrived at the school all those months ago, more detached somehow, but then she was ambitious. Well, there would still be free time for them to walk out together, wouldn’t there?
‘So, what about …?’ His voice trailed off as she held up her hand.
‘I know you are going to ask about the School Board. Well, don’t worry, Harry, I intend applying for membership of that as well.’
Hastily Harry swallowed the last of his drink. That wasn’t what he’d meant at all. Perhaps it was time to let her know ho
w he felt.
‘I had thought that we could spend the time getting to know each other better again, walking out, making plans for …’ he began.
‘And we will, Harry,’ she assured him, covering his hand with hers. ‘It’s just that I have things I must do first.’ Although she wanted to spend time with him, he needed to understand that these issues meant a lot to her.
‘Come on, let’s go down to the harbour,’ she suggested. ‘We can take a stroll by lamplight.’
But for Harry, the light had gone out of the evening.
7
It was the middle of February when Sheena O’Reilly arrived at Red Cliffs, bringing with her the first real cold snap of the year. She shivered, pleased she’d wrapped up well in a cherry-red woollen hat and matching muffler that cheered up her charcoal coat.
Her green eyes sparkled with excitement as she stared at the substantial house with its reddish-grey stucco walls and elaborate quoins. What a place, she marvelled, ready at last to take on the new challenge that lay ahead. She rang the bell beside the gate then as she waited for someone to admit her, noticed a young boy with the darkest eyes she’d ever seen staring sullenly through the iron railings.
‘Hello, there,’ she called brightly but he glared silently back at her. Then a stooped young man hobbled towards her. ‘Good morning, I’m Miss O’Reilly and I have an appointment to see Miss Sullivan,’ she told him in her lilting voice.
‘Right-ho,’ he said cheerfully, but as soon as he’d turned the key in the lock and pulled back the heavy gate, the other boy launched himself at the opening. ‘Steady on, Solomon,’ he said, restraining the flailing boy. ‘Let the lady enter.’
‘Goodness, what a firecracker,’ Sheena chuckled, only to receive another scowl.
‘Don’t worry he’s still getting used to the place, aren’t you, Solomon? Lessons are about to begin so you’d better get yourself over there before Master Higgins sees you here again.’
The boy sighed deeply, then trudged off towards the classroom.
‘I’m Pip,’ the young man grinned. ‘I’ll show you to Miss Sullivan’s office.’
She followed him up the gravel path and through the front door, which, although badly in need of redecoration, sported a highly polished brass letterbox and bell.
‘Miss O’Reilly to see you, Miss Sullivan,’ he announced, showing her into the office.
‘Well, would you look at that,’ she remarked, staring up at the motto above Sarah’s desk. ‘Love Never Faileth, now is that just not a wonderful sentiment, Miss Sullivan?’
‘It is indeed, Miss O’Reilly, and one my late godfather endeavoured to live by,’ the woman in front of her replied, smoothing down the skirts of her navy-blue dress. ‘Would you care to take a seat?’ she added, gesturing to the chair opposite.
‘This is a wonderfully cosy room, is it not?’ Sheena said, perching on the edge of the seat and staring around the room. Sitting down was the last thing she wanted to do; she was jumpy as a flea.
‘Thank you, although, as you can see, it is in need of some updating. Now, perhaps we should start with your testimonial?’
Sheena scrabbled around in her bag and handed it over. Then while the woman carefully perused it, she took another peek around.
It was true the furnishings were a bit threadbare but the high ceiling was decorated with an ornate cornice and the sash windows on two sides flooded the room with light. A fire was burning brightly in the grate and she longed to go over and warm her frozen hands. Just then the door opened and a motherly-looking woman entered carrying a tray of tea.
‘Thought you might like a nice warm drink after your walk, dearie.’
‘That is so kind of you, missus,’ Sheena cried, jumping up. ‘Here, let me help.’
‘Don’t you worry yourself, dearie. I can manage. Kind of you to offer, though,’ the woman smiled before pouring the amber liquid carefully into two cups edged with tiny red rosebuds.
‘This is Mrs Daws, our housekeeper,’ Miss Sullivan said. The woman nodded, then bustled out again. ‘Your character looks in order although the detail seems a little sparse.’ Feeling herself scrutinized by two clear brown eyes, Sheena answered with a bright smile.
‘I only had one position before coming to England, Miss Sullivan,’ she explained, holding the woman’s gaze and hoping she wouldn’t probe further. She wanted the past to remain firmly where it belonged.
‘Yet you are twenty, are you not?’
‘I am indeed and the eldest of seven siblings.’
‘Ah, then you are obviously used to young children,’ Sarah replied, looking relieved. ‘I see your previous position was as schoolmistress in a female establishment. I take it the Local Authority have outlined what will be required of you at Red Cliffs?’
‘To be sure they have, Miss Sullivan,’ Sheena chirped, happy to be on safe ground once more. ‘Three afternoons taking the girls for needlework, handicraft, good morals, manners, that kind of thing. Of course, I’d be happy to teach them anything you want,’ she smiled.
‘Tell me, Miss O’Reilly, do you believe girls should be given the same opportunities in life as boys?’ From the way she said this, Sheena sensed her answer was important.
‘I most certainly do,’ she cried. ‘The female brain is just as intelligent as the male, capable of absorbing facts and applying them in the same manner.’
‘Indeed, that is my theory, too. What prompted you to come here, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘Of course not. When my grandmother took a bad tumble and broke both a leg and an arm, she asked if I could help. It was meant to be a temporary arrangement but I don’t want to leave her. I love it here in Devonshire and decided to stay, hence my seeking employment.’
‘And will you be working at other education establishments as well?’
Sheena frowned, wondering if this was a trick question.
‘No, Miss Sullivan. This would be my only employment whilst I continue to care for Nanna. She hates being cooped up indoors and likes me to keep her company, read to her and assist with her embroidery. Do you know, she insisted on learning to use her left hand? Isn’t that truly marvellous? Although her stitches went aslant to begin with. She kept at it, though, until she’d mastered a way that worked for her.’ Aware that she was gabbling, Sheena drew to a halt.
‘I think perseverance is key to many things,’ Sarah smiled. ‘We have one girl here who, being left-handed, gets frustrated for the very same reason.’
‘We discovered it’s the way you hold the material. I’d be happy to show her the trick. Sorry, that’s always assuming you decide to engage me, of course.’
‘That will also be up to Master Higgins to decide. He teaches the children here full time, with the exception of the girls’ subjects, of course. Ah, I can hear they have broken for morning break, so if you’ll excuse me I’ll ask him to join us.’
Left by herself, Sheena quickly took off her hat, unwound the muffler then shook out her long hair. She’d been getting increasingly hot during the interview but hadn’t liked to ask if she could make herself comfortable. Miss Sullivan, although not much older than herself, looked so poised and confident in her smart dress, she’d felt quite the country bumpkin beside her.
No sooner had she sat down again than Miss Sullivan returned, followed by a tall, serious-looking man.
‘This is Miss O’Reilly,’ Sarah said, indicating Sheena. ‘Miss O’Reilly, let me introduce Mr Higgins, our illustrious schoolmaster.’
The man studied her for a moment then held out his hand. As Sheena gripped it enthusiastically, she noticed his brows lift slightly and wondered if he thought her too young for the position. She lifted her chin, determined to prove her suitability.
For the next quarter of an hour, Sheena answered the questions they fired at her before being asked to wait in the hallway whilst they conferred. Catching sight of herself in the glass on the wall, she grimaced. Her face was flushed as red as the tumble of wayward curls. In fac
t, she looked more like an excited schoolgirl than the sophisticated mistress she’d hoped to portray. If only she’d taken a moment to prepare herself before entering the house but she’d taken so long watching the activity of the boats in the harbour, she’d only made her appointment on time by a gnat’s breath. She was just rearranging her hair, when she noticed a young girl, holding a bundle of bed linen, eyeing her curiously.
‘Goodness, you gave me a fright,’ Sheena said, smiling. ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked when the girl continued staring.
‘Sorry, miss, but your red hair’s so pretty, I can’t help looking at it.’
‘I see you are also a fellow scarlock,’ Sheena laughed.
‘Eh?’
‘You also have curly red hair,’ she explained.
‘Scarlock? I never heard that name before. Beats April,’ she said, her free hand going to her head. ‘Have to have mine cut short and wear a cap, it’s the rules,’ she sighed.
‘Ah, that’s a shame. You’re still very pretty,’ Sheena replied.
‘Now you’re having a laugh,’ April snorted, her hand straying to the scar on her cheek.
‘Not at all. Anyway, you can get powder and things to cover that if it makes you feel self-conscious.’
April’s eyes widened in amazement. ‘Really?’
‘Sure. In fact, my nanna has a pot and if I am lucky enough to be taken on here, I’ll bring you some.’
The girl beamed, but before she could answer, the door opened and Sheena was called back into the office.
‘Wish me luck,’ she whispered to April.
‘Master Higgins and I have decided we would like to engage your services, Miss O’Reilly. You did say you were free to start straight away?’
‘Indeed, I am,’ Sheena cried. ‘So, this position will be until the end of May, then?’
What makes you say that?’ Harry asked, looking at her sharply.
‘The Local Authority admitted they couldn’t guarantee the school would be staying open past that date. Something about another inspection?’ Sheena replied.
‘Ah,’ he said, understanding dawning.
‘We have every confidence that the issues raised in November will have been addressed by then,’ Sarah told her. ‘They found nothing wrong with the teaching, I hasten to add. It was more about the condition of the property.’
