When the Bough Breaks (12 page)

‘I don't understand how a grown man, a man who has the power to make or mar the lives of the pupils here, could be such a . . . such a . . .' Her anger was rising again as she imagined Jessie and Beth being at the mercy of this sly devil – as nice as pie talking to her and then terrifying the children in his charge. ‘Such a
bully.
Loving parents entrust their children to your care so that they will be away from war in the safety of the countryside and what do you do? To cane a seven-year-old who is homesick and unhappy, feeling as if he's in prison here! It makes my blood run cold to think of it.'

‘I'm afraid you have lost me. I don't know what you have been told. But, these children of yours, does it not occur to you that they may have been misinterpreting something they heard?'

‘That's a wicked thing to say! My children
don't tell lies
.'

‘You misunderstand what I am suggesting. Believe me, I've had enough experience of the young to know that in the quest for excitement, adventure, they are capable of finding drama where there is none.' His voice was in unison with his unruffled manner, yet he made no attempt to smile. ‘But, whatever is behind this, I do assure you that except for half an hour or so at the lodge I have been here at the Hall all the morning. Where were your daughters when they believe they heard whatever it was they believe they heard?'

Making sure her cool demeanour matched his, she replied, ‘I allowed them to go by themselves along the lane to play on the common. When they reached the gate from the wood belonging to the Hall they stopped to talk to a boy called Oliver. Do you realize – or even care – what an unhappy child he is? Anyway, Jessie, my five-year-old, is a born organizer. The poor lad wouldn't have stood a chance against her and the upshot was that they helped him over the locked gate and they had a lovely morning on the common. Is that such a crime?'

‘With permission it would be no crime at all.'

Kathie felt she was losing the battle.

‘The rest you must know.'

‘I assure you I know nothing except what you have just told me. As for caning a child of Marley's age, it's out of the question. In the senior school corporal punishment is accepted – when it is merited. And, on those rare occasions, it falls to me to handle all corporal punishment. No other member of the staff here is authorized to cane a boy. For the under-thirteens there are other ways of dealing with their misdemeanours: forfeiting Saturday morning free-time, the writing of lines, learning a poem by heart.' With a smile that seemed to start in his light blue eyes and change his solemn countenance, the headmaster continued, ‘A suitable punishment to fit the crime.' For a moment neither of them spoke, each uncertain of the way forward. Then he said, ‘I am glad you called to see me. I knew Oliver Marley was finding it hard to adjust to boarding; and I admit it has worried me. There are usually tears near the surface when the very young are away from home for the first time. But you think with him it goes deeper? He probably talked more openly to children from outside. He's never boarded until we moved here, but it's strange that he of all the pupils should find it hard to settle here at Sedgewood Hall.'

‘You mean he is one of the Marley family who own it? He didn't tell the girls
that
. He said that his father had gone off to America and left his mother and him.'

‘Yes, his parents are divorced. The call of fame, no doubt. It was Mrs Marley, Oliver's mother, who told me about the Hall being empty. At that time the boy was a day pupil and, as he was in the junior school, I saw very little of him. I dare say life had been soft for him, his parents feeling guilty as their marriage fell apart.'

‘I don't know anything about that.' Kathie pulled herself back on course; she hadn't come here for friendly chatter. ‘But I do know that
you
, or if I'm to believe what you say, then one of your staff, not only sent the child to his study with instructions to get the cane out ready and then wait, but also told my girls that they were not allowed in the lane. His expression was that the lane was “out of bounds” – hardly words five-year-olds would have imagined or invented.' She was like a lioness defending her young. ‘That lane is public and, if you are so unfamiliar with anything outside the boundary of the Hall, I suggest you take a walk and find out for yourself. I come from Westways, the market garden fronting the lane. Beyond that point there is never any traffic, the lane peters into no more than a track leading to the common. And I shall thank you (and your staff) not to talk to my girls as if they are your prisoners just as the boys are.'

At that the headmaster's smile was overtaken by his laugh.

‘Believe me, the boys are not prisoners. I have responsibility for their safety, just as I have responsibility to ensure they are confident to walk out without supervision on Saturdays. Provided that they sign the log giving details of the time of their leaving and where they are going, the seniors are allowed out in their free time. But, to go back to what you tell me of your daughters: I've already told you, whoever they encountered – if indeed what they heard wasn't just something amongst the boys themselves – it most certainly was not me. But I shall look into it.'

‘Please, promise that you will. Imagine being seven years old and your life pulled up by the roots. You said just now, Mr . . . Mr . . .'

‘Meredith. Bruce Meredith. Forgive me, I had assumed you knew my name.'

‘Why should I? You are hardly part of the local community shut away here at the Hall.'

‘Indeed.' He seemed not a jot put out by her aggressive manner; in fact she felt he was amused.

‘Well, anyway,' she went on, ‘you said just now that with permission Oliver would have been allowed to play on the common with the girls. Would you give your permission for him to come to Westways? Even if he's not used to being out on his own, if he came over the gate in the wood it's not far round the bend to our front gate.'

Bruce Meredith was sizing up her suggestion.

‘If you care to name a day and time, then I will see he is there. But, you know, there is plenty of companionship for him amongst his peers here, if only he chose to join in.'

‘We're not all joiners, Mr Meredith. Please let him come. Jess said that he had such fun with them this morning.' He was watching her closely as she talked. ‘We run a market garden at Westways. Perhaps you think that letting a pupil visit what you would see as a working home isn't what the parents pay you for.'

‘I have said that if you tell me when you want him to visit, I shall see he's there.'

It wasn't in Kathie's nature to feel out of her depth, but that was the effect this man had on her. She regretted what she had said, her words echoing in her head as an apology for her lack of riches. He must be looking at her and realizing she had worn her best clothes for the visit; she felt humiliated and was angry with herself.

‘It will do him good. We work hard at Westways; even the children help. To my mind that's the way they should be brought up, aware that they are part of a team.'

‘Indeed commendable.' Then, sitting back in his chair and crossing his knees as if he was settling for a long and comfortable chat, he added, ‘And now, when shall I send him?'

‘Do they have to go to church in the morning?' She knew nothing of the ways of boarding schools.

‘If Sedgewood Hall had a chapel the answer would be “yes”. But since it hasn't, Reverend Gilbert, a member of the staff, takes a short service in the assembly hall at nine o'clock. Any time after ten Marley can be free.'

‘The girls will meet him by the locked gate at a quarter past ten. And if you say he can be free, he could stay with us until after tea. That would be long enough to let him get over any shyness. You see, I don't know him. Perhaps he isn't shy?'

‘Lacking in confidence, but not shy. In fact he has an almost unnatural air of maturity for a boy of his age.' Kathie could tell he was undecided whether to say more, so she waited silently. ‘Have I failed the child? Is the façade he presents no more than his wall of defence?' He might have been thinking aloud and showed no surprise that she didn't answer. ‘Well then, Mrs Hawthorne –' he seemed to pull himself back in line – ‘we'll say around ten o'clock tomorrow. Don't let your daughters hang about at the gate expecting to help him climb over. I shall see him through the gate and he can walk the last few steps by himself. To allow him to climb out of his cage would be tantamount to condoning it,' he added with an unexpected smile.

‘The girls will be delighted. I'll go and tell them the good news and won't detain you any longer.'

‘Indeed I was about to go along to the lodge when you arrived. Perhaps we might walk together as far as the gate.'

She had a feeling of failure that she could find him such easy company as they walked down the long drive. Then she reminded herself that it was better to have him on side, that way he would be likely to allow Oliver to escape to Westways more often.

At the lodge they parted company. She half walked and half ran down the hill to the turning marked by the signpost pointing to the common
.
If she hurried to change into her working clothes she could still get a few hours outside before she had to think about supper for the children.

It was a pity she couldn't have been a fly on the wall when, after half an hour or so at the lodge, Bruce returned to school making his way to the quarters of the housemaster in charge of Oliver Marley. One man spoke with quiet authority, the other became more florid as he blustered.

Waiting a minute or two after Bruce's departure, ‘Mr Horrid' went to find Oliver in the dormitory where he had been confined for the afternoon hours.

‘You have been invited to spend the day tomorrow with those two infants you seemed to find such good company this morning. I have been speaking to the headmaster and he is prepared to allow you to accept the invitation. He has agreed to see you through the gate in the woods – so, just remember, there is to be no more climbing out. Understand?'

‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.'

‘Now I think you have been in here long enough. Get outside and kick a ball about with your classmates.'

Oliver went downstairs and out into the sunshine. He knew that if he walked around the back of the building there was a path that would take him away from where Saturday afternoon freedom was being marked with the sort of noise he hated. Just inside the edge of the wood there was an old tree, perfect for climbing. Even at this time of year with the leaves starting to fall, there he felt safe and out of sight.

Next morning, while Jessie and Beth hurried through their jobs – drying up the breakfast things and putting them away, then feeding the chickens, Kathie got ready for her morning's work outside. Den had never done much on Sundays, and the two lads hadn't worked after midday Saturday, an arrangement continued by Kathie's two helpers. But Den had been more confident with what he was doing than she was. Sometimes she felt that everything took her twice as long as it would have taken him. But she wasn't being fair on herself; then, there had been a division of labour. Pulling on Den's well-worn work trousers, she couldn't fail to compare her reflection with that of yesterday afternoon when she had been resplendent in her ‘outfit'.

Well, like it or lump it, this is
me,
she told herself. Den was a slim man, but even so if she hadn't pulled the belt tight around her thin waist the trousers would have ended around her ankles. I only need a red nose and I'd look like a circus clown, she thought, taking no pleasure in her reflection. Her jumper was frayed about the cuff, the trouser legs were tucked into thick woollen socks and to crown it all she tied a scarf around her head. Stopping in the porch on the way out, she pulled on her wellington boots. Right, she was ready. Job number one was to clean out the pigsty.

‘Tell you what, Mum,' Jess shouted as she walked across the grassy patch to the shed to get her shovel and bucket, ‘me and Beth, we thought we'd go to the common when Ollie (that's what we're going to call him) when Ollie comes. We can do that, can't we?'

‘You can, as long as I know where you are and you listen for the hall clock like you did yesterday. But find me and tell me when you go.'

‘'Citing, isn't it, Mum, Ollie coming.'

The moment made a lasting impression on Kathie: the two little girls so full of life and, even after such a short time at Westways, Beth with such growing confidence. If it had done that for
her
, they had to hope it would work some sort of magic on the poor miserable lad they were expecting. Then she put them all from her mind and started to attack the least favourite of all her jobs. It was stupid to think of Horatio as anything more than tomorrow's meals, chops and bacon as Jessie said, but she had grown attached to each pig they'd kept. One more week and Horatio's life would be over. This time it had to be she who drove Horatio up the plank and into the truck. Pigs are intelligent; would he know he only had a one-way ticket? With determination she started to shovel, wishing herself faced with any task rather than this one.

‘Mrs Hawthorne?' Bruce Meredith's voice caught her off guard.

Loaded shovel poised, she seemed rooted to the spot.

‘I thought you were just going to unlock the gate for Oliver.' Her reply was less than welcoming. Into her mind flashed the trouble she had taken to convey the right impression the previous afternoon; if he hadn't guessed it yesterday, this morning would leave him in no doubt.

‘I was tempted to come to meet the little girls.' Then with a disarming smile, he added, ‘I wasn't sure that you believed what I said yesterday about not having seen them before. I thought you should see for yourself that we were meeting for the first time.'