‘Is it flour, Miss?’ asked the little boy, putting his head to one side and then putting the end of his pencil in his mouth.
‘Well done, Andrew. It’s flour.’
He flushed with pleasure.
‘Now, what kind of man makes the flour that goes to make the bread?’
Kate glanced behind her at the colourful pictures that lined the wall. She looked directly at the one showing a windmill with a red baker’s van standing outside it.
Several hands went up as excited children got the clue and made the connection.
‘Yes, Annie?’
‘A miller, Mrs Chapman.’
‘A miller,’ agreed Kate. ‘Well done, Annie. Now then, what does the miller need to make the flour?’ She looked along the rows of children as they struggled to come up with the answer. The expressions on their faces were such that she could almost hear their minds working. But she frowned when she came to a pretty little blonde girl in the second row. She felt a sudden wave of concern. Amanda clearly wasn’t concentrating on the question. Her eyes were dull and distant and her face was pale with a suggestion of moistness on her forehead.
‘Are you feeling all right, Amanda?’ she asked.
The child did not respond and the class murmured uneasily.
‘Amanda?’ repeated Kate.
The little girl turned her face towards her but still seemed distant.
Kate went over to her and put her arm round her shoulders. ‘What seems to be the trouble?’ she asked. She bent her knees, sat on her heels and smoothed the child’s hair back from her forehead. She let her hand rest there for a moment. Amanda was burning up.
‘Oh dear,’ Kate soothed. ‘You’re not very well at all, are you?’
Kate now had a problem. Amanda was not only one of her pupils; she was also her daughter. There was therefore no option but to pass the buck to a third party. Sandy, her husband, a medical lab technician, was on duty at the local hospital and there was no one else she could call on for something like this. They had only moved to Bardunnock a few months before and were still at the settling-in stage.
Kate stood up in front of the class and said, ‘I’d like you all to draw me a picture of what you think a miller might look like while I have a word with Mrs Jenkins. Any questions?’
‘What’s wrong with Amanda?’ asked Tracy Johnson, the local postman’s daughter.
‘She’s not feeling very well,’ replied Kate. ‘I think she’s got a bit of a cold coming on.’
Please God that’s all it is, thought Kate, as she picked up Amanda and hurried along the corridor to throw herself on the mercy of the head teacher, Isa Jenkins.
Isa Jenkins was teaching her own class. Kate looked through the one clear pane on the half-glass door and caught her attention. She saw Isa instruct her pupils to get on with something before coming outside into the corridor.
‘What’s up?’
‘It’s Amanda. She’s not well. I think she may be coming down with flu.’
Isa put her head on one side to look at Amanda, who was resting her head on her mother’s shoulder. ‘Poor wee mite,’ she said. ‘You don’t look well at all, do you?’
Amanda responded by putting her thumb in her mouth and nuzzling into her mother’s shoulder.
‘I’m awfully sorry about this-’ began Kate but Isa stopped her. ‘Nonsense,’ she said. ‘I’m sure we can work this out together. What do you want to do? Take her home or over to the medical centre in Colbrax?’
‘I think maybe home,’ said Kate. ‘I’ll put her to bed and keep an eye on her for a while. She’s got a bit of a temperature but it could subside as quickly as it came on. You know what kids are like.’
‘I should by now,’ Isa smiled. She had been a teacher for thirty-two years.
‘I really hate doing this to you,’ said Kate, ‘but-’
‘Nonsense,’ insisted Isa. ‘I’ll commute between classrooms until the bell.’ She looked at her watch. ‘It’s only another hour and a half. No problem. What are your lot doing?’
‘They’re drawing a miller.’
‘Right, off you go.’
‘Thanks, Isa, I’m indebted to you,’ said Kate, finding another reason for liking the life in Bardunnock.
At six o’clock Kate was in the kitchen when she heard Sandy’s car come round the bend at the foot of the hill and labour up to the tight right-hand turn into the drive of the cottage. The car was a green, eight-year-old Ford Escort they had named Esmeralda.
‘Where’s my princess?’ Sandy Chapman called out as he opened the door. He paused to wipe his feet on the coarse mat before stepping inside. For once his call was not answered by the sound of running feet and laughter. Kate emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands. ‘Your princess isn’t very well, I’m afraid. I had to bring her home from school this afternoon.’
Sandy stooped to kiss Kate on the forehead and put his arm round her shoulder before asking, ‘What’s the matter?’
‘I thought it was just a cold but now I’m not so sure. I thought I’d wait till you came home before I called the doctor.’
Sandy nodded, now looking worried. He climbed the stairs to Amanda’s room and pushed open the door. Amanda’s head didn’t move on the pillow but her eyes looked up at him.
‘Hello, Princess,’ said Sandy softly.
Amanda didn’t reply. Her gaze drifted off to the window but her focal point was miles beyond.
Sandy’s head nearly touched the ceiling in the upstairs rooms of the old cottage and his shoulders almost filled the doorway. He sat down on the floor beside Amanda and rested his elbow on the bed. ‘Poor Princess,’ he said. ‘Have you picked up some nasty bug?’
He ran his fingers lightly along his daughter’s forehead and felt the film of moisture on her pallid skin.
‘I think we are going to call Dr Telford to give you some medicine to make you well again.’ He looked at Kate meaningfully and she got the message. She left to telephone while Sandy continued to talk to Amanda.
‘Tell Daddy where it hurts. Is it your tummy?’
Amanda shook her head slowly.
‘All over?’
A nod.
‘Have you been to the bathroom today?’
‘Can’t remember.’
‘Can you remember what you had for lunch?’
A blank look.
‘The same as the other children?’
A nod.
‘You didn’t eat any of the berries off the bushes in the garden did you, Princess?’
A slow shake of the head.
‘Well you cuddle in now. The doctor will be here soon and he’ll make you all better.’ Sandy put Amanda’s teddy bear beside her and tucked in the covers.
‘What do you think?’ asked Kate when he came downstairs.
Sandy shrugged. ‘Same as you, I guess. I want to believe it’s just a cold or flu but I think it’d be as well to get a qualified opinion.’
Kate put her head against his chest and he wrapped his arms round her.
‘Oh God, I hope it’s nothing serious,’ she said.
‘We’re probably worrying unnecessarily,’ said Sandy, but he glanced at his watch and asked, ‘Did you get any idea how long the doctor would be?’
‘The receptionist thought about half an hour. He still has a couple of patients to see at evening surgery.’
There wasn’t enough room in Amanda’s bedroom for all three of them to crowd in, so Sandy stayed downstairs while their GP examined Amanda and her mother provided reassurance by holding her hand. Sandy stood looking out at the garden while he waited. There was no escaping the unease he felt, despite knowing that nine times out of ten a parent’s fears were unfounded. The chances were that the doctor would come downstairs
