Authors: Margaret Dickinson
Maddie was incensed as she felt the woman’s glance lingering on her nakedness.
‘Go away,’ Maddie said. ‘You’re not allowed up here either. Leave me alone.’
Harriet’s face twisted into a sneer. ‘And what do you think you’ve to hide, miss? Just get on with your bath and don’t use much water now. There’s others need hot
water after you and there’ll be none left.’
If she hadn’t known that it would be Michael who wanted to take a bath later, Maddie would have run and run the hot water all away to spite the woman. But knowing the two boys followed
after her, she did as she was bade and only used six inches, the regulation depth that had so been instilled in them all in the orphanage.
Later, as she towelled her hair dry, she could tell the difference even after using the shampoo only the once. It felt clean and silky. In the privacy of her bedroom she picked up the pair of
scissors she had found in the kitchen drawer and had earlier smuggled up to her room. Combing the hair forwards onto her face, she carefully snipped and combed and snipped again until she had a
fringe and wisps of hair drawn forward onto her cheek. In her thin face her blue eyes looked enormous and now, with the blonde hair framing her face, she looked like a little elf.
‘Why,’ Maddie whispered to herself, marvelling at her own reflection though without a trace of conceit. ‘I look almost pretty.’
She got into bed and turned out the light to lay in the semi-darkness listening to the sounds from the bathroom beyond her bedroom wall.
She could hear Michael warbling and splashing.
Smiling, Maddie fell asleep.
‘You know that field of tulips just beyond where your cows are, Mr Frank?’
Seated at the breakfast table Maddie spoke about the sight that had intrigued her ever since the morning she had first seen the field. Each time she fetched the cows, she would stand for a few
moments just drinking in the beautiful sight.
‘Stop your chatter and get on with your breakfast,’ came Harriet’s harsh voice.
Maddie saw Frank glance towards the housekeeper. He said nothing but brought his gaze round to Maddie and said quietly, ‘Aye, lass, what about it?’
Early that morning she had seen a line of women moving amongst the blooms. ‘They were cutting them this morning. Not leaving any long stalks on the flowers like you do to put in a vase,
but cutting just the heads off.’
‘Aye well, lass, they have to. Like I told you, they’re running a business.’
‘They use some as cut flowers, though,’ Michael put in.
‘That’s true. They pack and send a lot away, but there’s a market stall in town that’s loaded with flowers this time of the year.’
‘Oh, I’d love to see it.’
The man’s smile broadened. ‘Well, it’s market day tomorrow and I was going to go myself to look at some beast. You can come with me, if you like.’
‘It’s the Spring Fair as well, isn’t it, Dad?’ Michael said. ‘There’ll be roundabouts and swings, won’t there?’
‘You’re right, Michael. I expect it’ll be in the Black Swan Yard and the field behind it.’ Frank glanced round the table, now including everyone. ‘I tell you what,
we’ll all go. Make an outing of it and have lunch at the White Hart.’
‘Great,’ was Michael’s reply but Maddie saw Nick look towards his mother.
‘Not me, Mr Frank,’ she said sharply and then added, ‘but thank you for the invitation.’
‘Oh come along, Harriet,’ Frank coaxed. ‘You can’t avoid going into the town for ever. Besides, you went not long ago when you got those clothes for Maddie.’
A glance passed between them and Maddie, anxious not to give away the fact that she had overheard their quarrel about the clothes, stared down at her plate.
Harriet too averted her eyes from Frank’s gaze now, hesitating before admitting, ‘No, I didn’t. I got Mrs Grange from the corner shop in the village to get them for
me.’
Frank was nodding slowly. ‘Ah yes, Mrs Grange.’ He picked up a forkful of bacon and chewed it slowly, his thoughtful gaze still on his housekeeper.
‘Besides,’ she was saying, ‘who’s to see to things here if we all go off gallivanting?’ Her mouth was tight with disapproval. ‘And what about your milk round,
Michael?’
‘I’ll tell everyone on my round this morning that their milk will be a little late tomorrow. I’ll come back from town once we’ve had this posh lunch and do the round in
the afternoon.’
‘Folks won’t like that.’
‘We’ll see to everything before we go,’ Frank said. ‘And I’d really like you to come with us, Harriet.’ His grin was boyish and he looked, for a moment,
nearer the age of his own son. ‘I’ll even try to get the car going. If I can scrounge a drop of petrol, we’ll travel in style. I’ll have a look at it after
breakfast.’
‘We’ll help you, Dad. Won’t we, Nick? I’ll only have time for a quick look with you now before I have to get off on my round, but I’ll help this
afternoon.’
Now the younger boy smiled but avoided looking at his mother. Maddie had no such qualms and watched the housekeeper’s face. It was obvious that the woman was struggling to overcome some
kind of fear that only Frank seemed to understand. To Maddie’s amazement, she saw the tightness around Harriet’s mouth slacken as she put her head on one side with an almost coy
expression. ‘Well, in that case, Mr Frank, yes, Nicholas and I would be delighted to go.’ Turning to her son, she added, ‘Now, you help Mr Frank by doing some of his jobs if
he’s going to be busy with the motor car. You can start by cleaning out the hen-house. And you can feed the pigs.’
Nick’s mouth was suddenly sulky as he muttered, ‘Yes, Mam.’
They rose from the table, Frank and Michael chatting animatedly about the motor. Outside, Maddie touched Nick’s arm. ‘I’ll do the hen-house, if you want to go with Mr Frank and
Michael.’
The pale grey eyes behind the spectacles blinked. ‘Would you really?’
‘’Course I will. What do I know about cars and engines and things?’ She grinned. ‘But I have learnt how to muck out.’
A flush crept up the boy’s face as he said, so quietly she hardly heard the words, ‘I never thought you’d do something like that for me. If you’re really sure, I would
like to go an’ watch. I like engines. Anything mechanical.’
‘What about the pigs?’
‘I’ll do them later.’
It was the longest conversation she had had with Nick. She smiled at him. ‘Go on, then. Go and stick your head under the car bonnet with Mr Frank.’
The hardened layers of chicken dirt were more difficult to scrape up than she had imagined, but once she had dug down to the concrete floor of the building and could get the
sharp edge of the spade beneath the layers, it was easier. She was actually singing to herself when she heard Harriet’s voice behind her.
‘What are you doing? I told Nicholas to do this job. You should be in the Dairy.’
Maddie felt herself trapped. She knew if she told the housekeeper where Nick was, he would be in trouble.
Cheerfully, she said, ‘There’s nothing much to do in the Dairy, Mrs T, so I thought I’d help Nick.’
‘Don’t answer me back. There’s always work in the Dairy, girl. And my name’s Mrs Trowbridge to you.’
She moved into the dimness of the building treading carefully across the slippery floor and came close to Maddie. Gripping the girl’s arm, she leant towards her. ‘I know your little
game, miss. Flirting with young Michael and even fluttering your eyelashes at Mr Frank. Don’t think I don’t know. Well, if I had my way, you’d be back at that Home quicker than
you came.’
‘You picked me,’ Maddie shot back. Harriet blinked, shocked by the girl’s effrontery.
‘You cheeky little madam. I wish I’d left you where you were.’ She thrust her face even closer. ‘If you really want to know, girl, I didn’t so much
“pick” you as you was the only one available. The matron said that the other two who were school-leaving age had already got fixed up with jobs.’ Her grip on Maddie’s arm
tightened. ‘That should have warned me, shouldn’t it? Nobody else wanted you.’
‘No, you didn’t. You picked me purposely,’ Maddie flashed back, now so angry that she forgot caution. ‘ “Are you sure she’s the one,” you
said.’
For a moment, Harriet looked perplexed, almost guilty, as if she had been caught out. ‘How . . .?’ she began, but Maddie interrupted, unable to stop the words bursting form her
mouth. ‘I know exactly why you picked me. You thought I’d got no family. I heard you ask Mrs Potter if I’d got anyone belonging me and when she said “no”, you thought
no one would ever come looking for me. You thought you could work me to death and no one would know – or – or care.’ Her voice threatened to quaver, but she carried on defiantly.
‘Well, I have got family, so there. And one day they’ll come looking for me . . .’
‘Oh no they won’t . . .’ Harriet began, her eyes sparkling with malice, but whatever she had been about to say ended in a cry of alarm, as, hurt and humiliated, Maddie twisted
herself free of the woman’s grip so suddenly that Harriet was thrown off-balance. She tottered backwards, dropping the basket, half-filled with eggs. Her arms flailed helplessly as she sat
down heavily in the dirt that Maddie had just scraped into a pile. For a moment, Maddie had the overwhelming urge to laugh, but as the woman groaned and screwed up her face in pain, the
girl’s mirth died.
She held out her hand to help. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs T – Mrs Trowbridge. I didn’t mean . . .’
‘You – you little hussy. Wait ’til I tell Mr Frank about this.’ Ignoring Maddie’s hand, the woman struggled to regain her feet. ‘Just look at all that
waste.’ She pointed to the eggs smashed on the floor, their yellow yolks oozing across the wet dirt. Already hens were running to peck at the raw egg. ‘Get it cleaned up quickly.
You’ll have the hens breaking their own eggs to eat them next, once they get a taste.’
‘What do you mean . . .?’ Maddie began, but the woman’s voice rose.
‘Get it cleaned up, I tell you. Get this finished and then get the rest of the eggs collected.’
She turned and limped away, holding her right buttock.
Maddie no longer felt the desire to laugh. Now she was in real trouble.
‘Send her back. She’s useless. Good for nothing. She’s trouble with a capital T.’
‘Harriet, she’s only a little lass. How can she be expected to do everything right just yet? Besides, what actually happened in there?’
Maddie waited, holding her breath. This time she was not eavesdropping on the quarrel between Frank and his housekeeper. This time she was right in the middle of it.
‘She pushed me over.’
‘No, I didn’t. You’d got hold of my arm and I pulled myself free and you fell over.’
The woman glared at her. ‘You pushed me. Said I was walking on your clean floor.’ Harriet’s mouth twisted into a sneer. ‘Clean floor. I ask you, Mr Frank. Clean floor in
a hen-house?’
Maddie gasped and felt her face flush with anger. ‘That’s a lie. I never said that.’
‘Oh, calling me a liar now, are you? It’s you that’s the little liar.’ Harriet turned to Frank. ‘See how red her face is. Are you going to take her word against
mine?’
Helplessly, Frank glanced from one to the other.
Maddie had always hated deceit of any kind. She’d hated it in the Home when girls had taken one another’s belongings and then lied their way out of trouble. She’d once sat on a
girl until she’d confessed to taking Jenny’s hairslide.
Through gritted teeth Maddie said now, ‘I never tell lies.’
‘Send her back, Mr Frank. Back where she belongs.’
For a moment he closed his eyes, sighed heavily and shook his head, irritated by the whole incident. Then he looked down at Maddie. ‘I really don’t want to have to do that, so try to
be a good lass, eh?’ His tone was gentle, almost sad, and then he reached out and touched her hair in a gesture of tender affection.
And that was Maddie’s undoing.
She gave a little sob, turned and fled from the kitchen, through the wash-house and out of the back door.
Then she ran and ran. Out of the yard, down the lane to the meadow where the cows grazed, not stopping until she had run the full length of it and come to a halt at the hedge overlooking the
field of flowers.
Now breathless, her crying was coming in huge, wracking sobs. The pretty blooms were all gone, only the headless stalks and the green leaves were left.
Gone too, was Maddie’s feeling of security.
If Harriet Trowbridge could lie about a silly thing like that today, then there was no telling to what lengths she would go to get rid of Maddie. But what hurt the girl the most was that Frank
had believed his housekeeper.
He had not believed Maddie.
‘Are you getting ready then? We’ll be going in half an hour.’
Maddie, watching Michael standing before the mirror over the mantelpiece to tie his tie, said, ‘I didn’t think I’d be going. Not now.’
It was almost eight o’clock the following morning. Everyone had risen early to finish the milking and have breakfast so that they could arrive at the market as early as possible, but
nothing more had been said about Maddie going.
Michael came and leant on his hands on the table. ‘That’s all forgotten, young’un. Go and get ready. Look sharp.’
Still Maddie did not move. ‘Hadn’t you better ask Mr Frank?’ Her voice was husky with the tears she was trying to hold back.
Since the previous morning, Maddie had been awaiting her punishment. For the first time since coming to Few Farm, Maddie felt as if she was back at the Home. It was just the same as Mrs Potter
had done when Maddie had, to the matron’s mind, misbehaved. Hour after hour had been allowed to tick by whilst Maddie pondered upon the inevitable punishment. What would it be this time?
Extra chores, like scrubbing the tiles of the kitchen floor until her hands were red raw and her knees ached. Or would it be the cane? Maddie would imagine the thin cane whistling through the air
behind her before it struck her bare bottom.
She shifted uncomfortably in the chair now under Michael’s gaze, already feeling the anticipated pain. She guessed it would be Mrs Trowbridge who would administer the strokes and she knew
that the housekeeper would relish each and every weal that appeared on Maddie’s skin.