‘Well, you still might,’ Peggy said, ‘because I have to slip into school and have a quick word wi’ schoolmistress.’
‘I’ll wait with Betsy,’ Louisa offered. ‘Emma and Rosie can wait inside until you’re finished, Gran.’
Peggy gave one umbrella to Louisa, who stood next to the horse and shared it with her, and hurried back to the school with Rosie and Emma crouched under the other.
‘Wait here,’ she said as they entered the hall, ‘and don’t go off anywhere else,’ and she scurried off to catch the schoolmistress.
‘I won’t keep you,’ she began, when the woman looked up with a frown that said quite clearly that she didn’t welcome the interruption. ‘I realize you’ll have had a busy day and will want to get off home, but I need your advice.’ She quickly went on to explain that they had a relative’s child staying with them, and wondered whether he would be allowed to come to school with the other children.
‘It’s a bit awkward,’ Peggy continued quietly. ‘The boy’s mother is a widow, my husband’s late aunt’s husband’s niece.’ She saw the teacher’s jaw go slack as she tried to assimilate the relationship. ‘They’ve moved around quite a lot so he hasn’t had much schooling, but now his mother has taken a situation in the London area – a very respectable position, you understand,’ she added quickly, ‘but the hours are long and she’s worried about leaving the boy alone and mebbe mixing with undesirables and getting into trouble, as boys so easily can without an occupation.’
She paused for breath. ‘She’s hoping to come back to this area once she’s found a suitable position, and I offered – well, we have to, haven’t we? – to have the boy to live with us until then.’
‘Well, the boy should go to school,’ the teacher affirmed. ‘Strictly speaking his mother is not breaking the law if he doesn’t, but by next year there’ll be new rules regarding this, although we don’t yet know the details. At the moment children in country districts can take time off for haymaking or potato harvesting – of which I do not approve, though Headmaster is more lenient – but it isn’t allowed in the towns. Children should be at school, not working.’
‘No indeed,’ Peggy agreed. ‘Our daughter is a schoolteacher and she’s in complete agreement with you there.’ Which was a downright lie, she thought, because Jenny was a countrywoman, unlike this one, and knew how the children were needed, not only by the farmers but to earn money for their hard-pressed families where every penny counted. ‘So, it will be all right for him to come? He’s a grand little boy,’ she finished. ‘Very bright and intelligent.’
The teacher pursed her lips and Peggy thought that if she made a habit of it she would have deep lines around her mouth before she was forty.
‘Is there insufficient money in the family to send him away to school?’ The teacher seemed to be trying to find another solution before agreeing, but Peggy clasped her hands together and shook her head.
‘Nothing!’ she whispered. ‘All lost. The young woman is practically destitute, which is why she has to work wherever she can.’
The schoolmistress was silent for a moment, and then said, ‘Very well. If there is no alternative solution and no one else to care for him, he can start next Monday. If he’s still with you by Christmas I’ll discuss it with Headmaster and we’ll review the situation after the holiday.’
‘Thank you,’ Peggy said. ‘I’m much obliged.’
‘That’s quite all right,’ the mistress replied in a softer tone. ‘We must do what we can; I believe that all children deserve an education. What’s the boy’s name? I’ll make a note in the school register.’
‘Robin,’ Peggy said. ‘Robin Jackson,’ and wondered why the name had such a familiar ring.
They arrived home, wet and bedraggled, and the children piled into the house to be greeted by Molly and Robin. Peggy rubbed the old horse down with a clean piece of sacking before putting her into her stall and making sure she had plenty of hay; then, straightening her back, thought, what? What was it that the teacher said? She couldn’t quite catch the memory. Something about …? She shook her head and closed the stable door behind her. She couldn’t recall. It had gone, but it might come back.
She went indoors to find the fish pie still on the table and no sign of Susan. Muttering to herself, she put the pie in the oven and began to chop up a cabbage and scrape carrots; when she had done that, she quickly mixed up a crumble with raisins and cinnamon and popped it on the oven floor.
She opened her mouth to ask Louisa to set the table and then changed her mind. The child was so willing that it was easier to ask her than Emma, who always made a fuss, but no, the younger girl must learn to take her turn.
‘Emma, m’darling,’ she said. ‘Set ’table, please, and don’t forget we’re nine now.’
‘Nine?’ Emma got up without protest to do her bidding. ‘No, I’m onny seven, Gran. Have you forgotten?’
Peggy patted the top of her head. ‘No, honey lamb, I meant nine of us sitting down to eat. We’ve got Robin with us now, haven’t we?’
Emma nodded and went to fetch a tablecloth from the dresser drawer. Laughing, she said, ‘Ma says never mind a robin, he’s a cuckoo in the nest! What does she mean, Gran?’
Peggy clenched her teeth. ‘I’ve no idea,’ she muttered, but of course she had; and wondered how Susan could consider a small boy as a threat to her own daughters. ‘Your ma has some odd notions, hasn’t she?’ she couldn’t help but add.
‘She has,’ the child unexpectedly agreed as she carefully smoothed the tablecloth that hung lower down on one side than the other. ‘Cuckoo would be a very funny name for a boy, wouldn’t it?’
As Peggy dished up supper, serving the
