Noel Streatfeild 2-book Collection

‘Does your mother let you put your feet up?’ Lavinia asked.

Clara gave Lavinia a friendly dig with her elbow.

‘Give over! Is it likely with ten little ’uns to look after? Why, I’m not inside the door before it’s “Clara do this”. “Clara do that”.’

Lavinia leant against the window.

‘I do wish I had something pretty to wear to match the weather, it’s not a day for black.’

It was a rule of the house that all the servants wore black for church on Sundays.

‘Can’t you change?’ Clara suggested.

‘No, I was told specially I could leave right after church.’

‘Tell you what,’ Clara suggested. ‘When “They’’ – “They” was how the staff usually referred to the family – ‘have gone, take off your titfer and give it to me. Proper figure of fun we look in them.’

All the women servants had to wear small black hats to church or else black bonnets. The hats, which were provided, were made of unbendable chipped straw with a band of narrow ribbon round them. It was said in the servants’ hall that they were chosen because they were guaranteed to suit nobody.

Lavinia poured some cold water from a jug into a tin basin and started to wash.

‘What a good idea! I was going to put it in my basket with my lunch, but if you’ll take it home it’ll be lots better. I’ll let my hair loose, I hate it up.’

As the village church was not far away, on fine Sundays the staff walked to Matins through the grounds. When it was wet they were driven in a brake with the hood up. That Sunday Lavinia, walking last as became her humble position, almost danced down the drive. She was carrying the basket Mrs Smedley had given her and, though she had no time to look inside, it was so heavy she was sure it was full of good things. On top of it she had put the bag of sweets, chosen with care to prove irresistible to the Ben who washed Horry. Suddenly she heard a whistle and there was Jem looking round a rhododendron bush. Lavinia, on an afternoon walk in the grounds, had told him this was her Sunday to visit the orphanage, but he had not known then how much free time he would have, though he had promised to set her on her path. Now he had good news.

‘I got the half-day, too, see, so I can walk most of the way with you. I’ll wait on the canal bank – I’d like a word with them on the canal boats on account they may have seen my dad, see? Then I can take you home.’

Lavinia was delighted.

‘Could you really? I would like that. I have to be back at the house before dark, but it’s a long walk and I’d enjoy your company.’

Jem thought this very fancy talk so all he said was, ‘See you after church,’ and disappeared back behind the rhododendron.

Every weekday at Sedgecombe Place there were family prayers. These were taken by Lord Corkberry and all the staff had to attend in strict order of precedence, starting with the butler and finishing with Lavinia. Sunday morning service was, Lavinia thought, very like family prayers, for again they lined up behind the butler and sat in pews in strict precedence, again finishing with herself. That Sunday she was glad that she came last because it gave her a chance to hand the verger her precious basket and ask him to look after it.

It was peaceful in the little church, with the smell of wallflowers blowing in through the door and doves cooing on the roof. In the ordinary way, Lavinia would have enjoyed the service, glad of the chance to sit down and join in singing favourite hymns to well-known tunes. But that day she could not get her mind off Peter and Horry. Had they been told yet that she was coming? In spite of being asked for by Mrs Tanner, would she be allowed to see Margaret?

After church all the staff had to form up in two lines on either side of the churchyard path. Then, as Lord and Lady Corkberry and any guests they might have passed, all the men had to raise their hats and the women to curtsey. Usually the Corkberrys would nod and smile in reply, though sometimes they would pause to speak. That morning Lady Corkberry stopped in front of Lavinia.

‘Have they given you a good packed lunch?’

Lavinia gave another curtsey.

‘Oh yes, m’lady. I haven’t looked but it feels heavy.’

Lord Corkberry was a man who liked to spend his life on a horse, though he would as a change shoot game, or fish. He left the running of his house entirely to his wife and seldom spoke to the indoor servants. Now, to Lady Corkberry’s surprise, he spoke to Lavinia.

‘And where have you secreted this packed lunch which you have not seen but which feels heavy?’

Poor Lavinia, with all the servants’ eyes on her, turned pink. She gave yet another curtsey.

‘I – asked the verger to look after it, m’lord.’

Lady Corkberry smiled.

‘Have a pleasant day.’ Then she moved on.

When they were out of earshot, Lord Corkberry asked his wife:

‘Who is that girl, Rose?’

Lady Corkberry was surprised at his interest.

‘The new scullery maid. She has two little brothers at the orphanage whom she is going to visit.’

‘Funny,’ said Lord Corkberry, ‘she’s the dead spittin’ image of somebody. Can’t remember who, but it will come back.’

The Corkberrys and the heads of staff out of sight, Lavinia dashed into the church to retrieve her basket, tossed her despised hat to Clara and joined Jem at the church gate.

At all times a canal bank is a fascinating place. That morning in April it seemed to Lavinia to have magic about it. There were primroses and cuckoo flowers along the banks, and in the woods she could see celandines and wood anemones. Jem could not understand her excitement.

‘They’m pretty all right, but you don’t have time for no prettiness when you have to lead the ’orse what pulls the boat. Very contrary critters canal ’orses can be.’

Lavinia forced herself to attend to Jem.

‘Fancy being born on a boat, it must have been odd.’

‘Not really. It’s what you’re used to, I suppose, but it was a tight squeeze. Our boat, the Crusader, she’s called, like all canal boats is only seven feet. There’s two cabins like, one fore and one aft, with a cross-bed for me dad and mum. Well, you can see with six of us there wasn’t much room for larkin’ or that.’

Lavinia looked at the canal, so quiet with trees reflected in it, while a mother moorhen taught her babies their way around, and a heron flashed low over the water looking for a fish.

‘I wonder why you and your brothers hated the canal life, it looks fun to me. I’d love to walk along leading a horse.’

Jem sniffed.

‘Think you’d love it, do you? That’s all you know. You try it all weathers. Mind you, though it’s cruel ’ard on the boys, it’s worse on the ’orses. There’s stables all up and down the canal and we ’ires them from there. A canal boat loaded weighs maybe twenty, maybe thirty ton, and the ’orse he has to pull that weight eighteen maybe twenty hour a day, and when he has to start the boat movin’ it’s wicked for there’s the weight of the water added.’

‘Poor horses!’ Lavinia agreed, but her mind was only half with Jem, the weather was lovely and so soon she would see the boys.

Jem left Lavinia about a mile from the orphanage.

‘I shall wait here,’ he said. ‘Should be a boat along any time now. See you later.’

‘Dear Jem, thank you so much,’ said Lavinia, and hurried off along the path.

Chapter Eleven

THE PICNIC

Matron did not mention to Margaret, Peter or Horatio that Lavinia was coming until after midday dinner. Sunday dinner was the big meal of the week, so it was enormously looked forward to by the orphans. Sometimes it was boiled silverside with dumplings and on another Sunday a round of beef with Yorkshire pudding. Actually, whatever was served, there was more of the dumplings or pudding on each plate than meat, but the orphans didn’t mind – suet or pudding made you feel full and that was something they seldom felt.

After grace had been sung, Matron held up a hand for silence.

‘Seeing the day is so fine you may all take your Prayer Books into the garden for an hour and learn the collect for the day outside. I shall hear you repeat this myself this evening. You little ones who cannot read can look at the Bible picture books. When the hour is up, Miss Jones will give you all Sunday tasks, during which you will take turns to read out loud The Pilgrim’s Progress. I wish to speak to Peter and Horatio Beresford and Margaret Thursday.’

All day Margaret had been waiting for a message. This was Lavinia’s half-Sunday. She didn’t suppose she would be allowed to see her, but she meant to have a good try, and anyway she would bring sweets for that awful Ben.

Matron waited until the orphans had filed out, then she ordered Peter, Horatio and Margaret to stand in front of her. She fixed her eyes on Peter.

‘I have received a letter from Sedgecombe Place. Your sister Lavinia is being allowed to visit you this afternoon. As an exception I am allowing her to take you and Horatio for a walk.’

Nobody ever went outside the orphanage except to school or church. Even Peter, vague as he was, knew this. A walk with Lavinia! It was a glorious promise. His eyes shone.

‘Oh, thank you, Matron.’

Matron turned to Margaret.

‘Lady Corkberry is under the illusion that you have been of service to Peter and Horatio so she asks that you may be allowed to join the party. I was much inclined to refuse this request for I am far from satisfied with your behaviour, but as the suggestion comes from Lady Corkberry I have decided – unwillingly – to allow this great treat, so you may join the Beresford boys on their walk with Lavinia.’

Margaret had to hold her tongue between her teeth to prevent herself from answering. She longed to say: ‘Thank you – but I don’t want any favours from you.’ Instead, splendidly conscious that she had arrived on the church steps with three of everything all of the very best quality, whereas Matron when a baby was most likely dressed in passed-down woollens which were grey with age, she gave a curtsey. Then, smiling sweetly, she said:

‘Thank you kindly, Matron.’

Matron could feel that somehow Margaret was making fun of her, impertinent child that she was, but she could say nothing, so she strode out of the dining room calling over her shoulder:

‘Get ready now, you can sit in the hall until Lavinia arrives.’

The Sunday fichus on the girls and white collars on the boys gave the orphans a cared-for look. But even in their Sunday clothes Lavinia was shocked when she saw Margaret and Peter. Horry, she noticed thankfully, was much as usual. But Peter’s face had shrunk and his eyes seemed to have grown bigger. Margaret seemed to be much paler and her hair, though still curling under her cap, was less defiant. Lavinia put down her basket and knelt in the hall hugging all three to her while she murmured: ‘My darlings! My poor darlings!’

Margaret said:

‘Matron said we could go for a walk with you.’

Lavinia was delighted.

‘We’ll have a picnic. I saw a wood not far off and I’ve got the food in this basket.’

For a picnic the despised brown cloaks came into their own. Lavinia spread them out so there was room for them all to sprawl on them without getting damp. As the children had just eaten their dinners she decided to leave the meal until as late as possible so they could enjoy it. ‘After all,’ she thought, ‘I eat well every day so it won’t hurt me to have my dinner late for once.’

‘Vinia,’ Horatio demanded, ‘I think there’s wolves in this wood, can I go and look?’

Lavinia took off his Sunday collar.

‘Of course you can, and if you find a friendly one you might bring it back with you. Give me your collar, Peter. We mustn’t mess them up and you can go wolf-hunting too.’

Peter obediently took off his collar.

‘Did you bring me a book? I’m reading as slow as slow, but I’ve nearly finished A Tale of Two Cities and I’m over halfway through David Copperfield.’

‘Not this week I didn’t but I’ll see if I can get hold of anything for next time. Aren’t there any books in the orphanage?’

‘Just The Pilgrim’s Progress and some Bible picture books, and they are kept in Matron’s room,’ Margaret explained.

Lavinia, having no idea how she would manage it, repeated her promise to try to get hold of something, which seemed to satisfy Peter for he ran off with Horatio.

‘Are you happy to stay here,’ Lavinia asked Margaret, ‘or would you like to pick primroses?’

Margaret stared at her, surprised that anyone so sensible could ask so silly a question.

‘What could I do with primroses?’

‘I suppose, even in the orphanage, there must be a jam-jar.’

Margaret took off her fichu in case she should crumple it.

‘I should have thought even in the little time you were there you would know orphans don’t have flowers, in fact, orphans don’t have anything. I’ve still got that box Hannah gave me that the toffees were in. I keep it in my bed, but they’d take it away if they knew and I’d be punished.’

‘How do they punish you?’

Margaret held out a hand which had red marks across the palm where she had been given ten strokes with a switch.

Lavinia drew in her breath.

‘Do Peter and Horry get beaten like that?’

‘Neither of them have got punished yet. The things Peter does, like reading when he’s pulling the mowing machine, they don’t know, and the little ones get more slaps than real punishments.’

Lavinia took Margaret’s hand and looked at it.

‘Mean beasts!’

‘Truly, I’d rather have my hands hit than some of the other punishments. I hate being locked in a cupboard and it’s pretty awful being sent to bed without supper because you are so hungry you can’t sleep.’

‘You and Peter look as if you were usually hungry – Horry doesn’t look so bad.’

‘That is because of Polly Jenkin. She helps Miss Snelston who is head teacher, they are both awfully nice. Polly is very fond of Horatio and she sneaks things to him when the others aren’t looking. Good things like sandwiches full of meat and hardboiled eggs, and often he gets a glass of milk.’

‘God bless Polly!’ said Lavinia. ‘I do hope some day I can thank her.’

Margaret looked worried.

‘I know Peter is getting thin, but it’s difficult to help him. You see, the boys and the female orphans don’t often meet. Sometimes I sneak out to talk to Peter, but if I’m caught I’m punished. But I’ve got a plan.’ She lowered her voice as if even there Matron could hear. ‘The cook – she’s called Mrs Bones, and it’s a good name for her for all we get is bones – well, she has to cook Matron’s supper, but if she knew I could cook I think she’d be glad to let me do it for she says she’s on her feet all day and they hurt something chronic. Well, I’m working on Winifred, who was an orphan but now is in the kitchen, to tell Mrs Bones about me, and if I get a chance to cook I’ll get some pickings, and I don’t care what punishments I get I’ll share them with Peter and Horry.’

Lavinia looked fondly at Margaret.

‘You are a kind girl.’

‘Not really,’ said Margaret. ‘Mostly it’s sort of revenge. I despise Matron so much I don’t care what I do to annoy her.’

The picnic was a wild success. There were such delicious things in the basket. Sandwiches of all sorts, a fruit pie, cakes, biscuits and a slab of chocolate. With cries of delight, the hungry children fell on the food until there was not a crumb left. They were so busy eating they did not notice Lavinia gave them everything, eating nothing herself.

‘What’s in that bag, Vinia?’ Horatio demanded.

Lavinia handed the bag to Margaret.

‘It’s sweets. Peter is going to give one to Ben every day so that he does not put soap in your eyes.’

‘Where shall we hide them?’ Peter asked.

‘At school,’ said Margaret. ‘You can bring one back every day.’

Lavinia was very silent on the walk home to Sedgecombe Place. It had made her cry to leave the children at the orphanage. Surely somewhere there was a better place that would take them in?

Jem was used to being on his own so he respected Lavinia’s silence and walked on ahead whistling.

When Lavinia got in Mrs Smedley was starting to prepare Sunday supper. She looked out of the window where the sun was setting.

‘Just in time,’ she said. ‘There’s a good girl. I’m giving them macaroni cheese for a hot dish so, as my girl’s out, you can grate the cheese for me.’ Then she noticed that Lavinia looked tired. ‘But have some tea first.’

In the kitchen there was a cupboard called ‘The Housemaids’ Cupboard’. This was always bulging with snacks: game, cold chicken, cold meats, as well as fruit puddings and cakes. Any of the staff could help themselves from that cupboard whenever they felt hungry. Lavinia took a plate and piled on to it a rich assortment of food, then, fetching a knife and fork, she sat down at the table in the window and ate the lot.

Mrs Smedley watched her. She had packed her luncheon basket herself so she knew what had been in it. At last she asked:

‘Was the dinner all right?’

Lavinia looked up apologetically from her plate.

‘Lovely. I was able to share it with the boys and Margaret.’

‘Share nothing,’ thought Mrs Smedley. ‘I think you thought the children were hungry and gave them the lot. I’ll have a word with Mrs Tanner about that orphanage and maybe she’ll find a way to pass it on.’

Chapter Twelve

A NIGHT ADVENTURE

Margaret, by tactful questioning, managed to get out of Sally some news.

‘My mum is going up to your old orphanage after dinner Tuesday.’

It was all very well to have the information, but Margaret could not imagine how she would use it. But she was determined that somehow she would. So on the Monday after the picnic she decided, as a first step, to find out where the room was in which Sally’s mother would work. Sally had said ‘at the top of the house’ – a part of the building no orphan had ever seen, but Margaret, by talking to Winifred, had collected a little information.

‘I sleep on top under the roof with Mary,’ Winifred had said – Mary was Mrs Bones’s kitchen maid. ‘Funny little room it is, with the water tank in the corner what makes noises like an old man with the wheezes. Still, it’s not so bad on account there’s only us so we can do what we like up there. Mrs Bones wouldn’t half take a turn if she could see what we sneaks up for our suppers.’

‘Lucky you!’ Margaret had said. ‘I’d love to sleep in the only room at the top of the house, it’s awful sharing with forty-nine other girls.’

‘Don’t I remember!’ Winifred had agreed. ‘Sniffin’ and snuffin’, not to say throwin’ up at times.’ She had lowered her voice. ‘But it’s not the only room. There’s another where Matron keeps you know what.’

Margaret had hidden that she was bursting with interest.

‘Have you ever seen inside?’

Winifred shook her head.

‘Not likely!’ There had been drama in her voice. ‘I wouldn’t dare go in. It wouldn’t surprise me if, as well as the clothes what we know are there, there wasn’t some dead orphans poked away in a cupboard.’

Margaret carefully planned her time for exploring. Winifred had to carry in Matron’s supper the moment the last orphan had gone up the stairs to bed. Miss Jones, having put out the lights in the girls’ dormitory, retired to her room, which was just off the passage outside. She, like all the staff except Matron, had eaten her supper with the orphans. As bread, margarine and cocoa were barely enough to keep the orphans alive, it was likely that somehow Miss Jones got hold of something extra and ate it in her room. So just after lights out was the ideal time, but the snag was that just after lights out few of the orphans were asleep. No one dared to get out of bed for fear Miss Jones would reappear, which sometimes she did, but there was a lot of whispering and giggling from bed to bed. If the orphans saw Margaret get out of bed and go out of the dormitory one of them would be certain to telltale for tale-bearing was rewarded, usually with an extra slice of bread and margarine, though sometimes with a real luxury like a piece of cheese. But Margaret had it all planned. Softly as a kitten jumping, she eased herself out of her bed and then lay flat on the floor; from there she rolled from bed to bed until she reached the end of the room next to the door.

Miss Jones always wedged the dormitory door open so that she could hear if there was any disturbance. There was a gas jet in the passage, but it was turned very low so there was little light. Fortunately the child in the bed by the door, called Violet, had her back to it when Margaret reached the door, for she was whispering to her nextdoor neighbour, so, still flat on the ground. Margaret was able to crawl out. But as she crawled she passed over a loose board which gave a loud creak. Had anybody heard? Violet in the end bed had. She shot up, stifling a scream.

‘There’s a burglar outside, I’m sure there is,’ Margaret heard her whisper.

‘What would a burglar come here for?’ another girl replied. ‘D’you think he’s after our uniforms or maybe he’d fancy my nightie?’

This witticism was relayed up and down the dormitory, causing explosions of laughter.

‘I’d better move,’ thought Margaret. ‘If that noise doesn’t bring old Jones nothing will.’

Margaret got to her feet and ran down the corridor to the stairs and was just going to climb them when she heard Miss Jones open her door. Quickly, she lay down flat against the banisters.

From where she was she could see Miss Jones, who had not yet undressed, go to the dormitory door.

‘Who was laughing?’ she asked.

In a frightened squeak, Violet answered:

‘Please’m, I mean Miss Jones’m, I thought I heard a burglar.’

Miss Jones expressed astonishment by using the word ‘burglar’ like a piano. She started on a low note and rose almost an octave.

‘A burglar? And what, pray, would a burglar want here?’

Violet was evidently nearly in tears.

‘I don’t know, Miss Jones.’

Miss Jones had not come to the dormitory unarmed. Out of her pocket she took a hairbrush.

‘A girl who keeps others awake must be punished,’ she said.

Margaret could hear no more except muffled cries. Too well she knew what was happening. Poor Violet was being beaten on her behind with a hairbrush, and very painful it was. Margaret was sorry and decided, as it was her fault, to give Violet one of Ben’s sweets in school tomorrow. Then, taking advantage of Miss Jones being by Violet’s bed, she ran up the stairs.

The boys’ dormitory was over the girls’ room. Here the same system prevailed. The dormitory door was fixed open, there was a low gas left on all night, but the room which on the floor below belonged to Miss Jones was on the boys’ floor occupied by Mr Toms, the Beadle. It was orphanage gossip that he liked a glass or two of porter at night and did not expect to be disturbed unless an orphan was so ill death might be expected. Margaret, relying on this gossip being true, ran up the passage and climbed the last flight of stairs.

There was not a sound on the top floor except the wheezing of the water tank. Margaret was not surprised at the quiet, for she knew Mary and Winifred would not be up yet for they had the stove to blacklead and Matron’s supper to wash up before they could go to bed. There were two doors just as Winifred had described, and she knew which was the room she wanted because behind the other door she could hear the wheezing tank. Quietly she turned the handle. To her surprise the door opened, for she had expected it to be locked. She closed it softly behind her and looked around. There was a moon that night and by its light she could just see that the door being unlocked was going to do her no good for the room was empty except for a table, a chair and two large cupboards standing side by side just away from the wall. Margaret tugged and pulled at the doors of the cupboards, but they held firm. She was wasting her time for both were locked.