Charlie Weatherly climbed down the ladder and stepped back to admire his handiwork. The sign had taken months to arrive, but it looked a treat and the weather had cleared long enough for him to put it up.

‘Hello Mr Charles,’ Alice-Miranda said with a wave. ‘That looks great.’

‘Well, it says what it is,’ the man replied, rocking on his heels. ‘I like that.’

The girls had been wondering whether their senior boarding house was going to be named after a former headmistress or a pupil of renown, but in the end Miss Grimm and the Fayle sisters had decided that Caledonia Stables was best and not too easily mixed up with the newer stables that still housed horses over at the junior campus.

‘How are you and the girls feeling after your heroics?’ the man asked.

‘We’re fine, but the Abbouds have been on my mind all day,’ the tiny child admitted.

‘Yes, it’s a worry. Mehmet is one of loveliest fellas I’ve ever known and the man can cook, that’s for sure,’ Charlie said. ‘Something smells good in there today too.’

‘It’s spaghetti bolognaise and garlic bread. I can recommend both.’ Alice-Miranda was glad to be able to say that honestly. She’d bolted down her lunch and was now on her way up to Caledonia Manor to see Miss Hephzibah and Miss Henrietta, armed with the latest Highton’s catalogue that her mother had sent. She wanted to give it to them before afternoon lessons began.

The girl waved goodbye to Charlie and wandered up the driveway and through the main entrance of the manor, down a long hallway and to the door marked ‘Private’. She knocked once and waited. Alice-Miranda felt something tickle her bare leg and looked down to find a black kitten.

‘Hello Cleopatra. That naughty Fudge hasn’t been chasing you again, has he? I think he’s staying with Mrs Howard this week, so you should be safe enough.’ She picked up the purring creature as Miss Hephzibah opened the door.

The woman’s eyes crinkled like a concertina fan as she embraced the child, cat and all. ‘Good afternoon, darling girl.’

‘I hope I haven’t come at a bad time, but I just got the mail at lunch and Mummy sent this for you.’ The child passed Hephzibah the fat brochure. ‘She said in her note to let me know if there’s anything you and Miss Henrietta would like, and I’ll organise to have it sent right away. Mummy would usually do it, but she and Daddy have gone on a big adventure trekking in the Andes for a whole month.’

‘Oh, how lovely.’ Hephzibah smiled. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever get this old brain around that modern-day online shopping – much better to have a book to look at. Come in and have a piece of cake,’ she said, standing aside to let the girl through. ‘I baked it this morning.’

Alice-Miranda glanced at her watch. She still had twenty minutes before her PE class and she’d already changed into her uniform. ‘Thank you, that would be wonderful,’ she said, and followed the old woman into the huge country kitchen, where she was surprised to see Mr and Mrs Parker sitting at the table with Miss Henrietta. There were plates and tea cups and a deck of cards set off to the side.

‘Reg, it’s just not possible that we have the family stay with us,’ Myrtle said with a sniff. ‘I’ve told you that already. Please don’t bring it up again – I can only tolerate so much guilt.’

‘I still can’t believe there’s not a spare house in the village,’ Henrietta said, twisting her wedding ring. ‘The older girls have to go to school. The last thing their mother needs is to be worried about that as well.’

Reg looked over and grinned. ‘Hello young lady. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?’

Alice-Miranda hurried around to give the man a hug. He whispered something to her and she smiled conspiratorially before he drummed his forefingers on the tabletop and pretended to hit a high hat – except that he actually did tap his wife on the head.

‘Stop that, Reginald,’ the woman admonished, and was swiftly placated by a hug from Alice-Miranda.

The girl gave Henrietta a squeeze too then sat down at the end of the table, in time for Hephzibah to place a wedge of hummingbird cake in front of her.

‘Oh, this looks delicious. Thank you,’ Alice-Miranda said. She picked up her fork and dug in. ‘Have you heard anything more about the Abbouds?’ When Myrtle explained what her friend Sue had told her, the girl frowned. ‘But that’s terrible. We have to do something.’ She wondered if she could organise the groceries from Kennington’s without her parents’ help. ‘Maybe there’s a house in the village that’s vacant or up for rent.’

Myrtle shook her head. ‘We rang the estate agents and tried the council too and apparently there’s not a one. I still find that very hard to believe, but that’s what we were told.’

The group had intended to play bridge that afternoon, but once Myrtle relayed what Sue had told her, they’d decided to brainstorm ways to help the Abboud family instead and had spent quite a deal of time on the telephone making enquiries.

‘Believe me, we have tried all avenues.’ Myrtle got up and bustled over to the kettle to refill the teapot. ‘The Abbouds will likely have to leave Winchesterfield. Even Downsfordvale didn’t sound promising, but at least I’ve managed to secure some donations of baby goods, which are being delivered to the hospital today.’

Alice-Miranda’s eyes widened. She swallowed her mouthful and set down her fork with a delicate tink. ‘We could have a clothing drive at school. If every girl donated one item, that would go a long way to filling the children’s wardrobes.’

‘A marvellous idea,’ Henrietta said, clapping her hands.

‘That sounds relatively easy too,’ Reg said.

Myrtle nodded. ‘And I can spread word in the village to see if we can get some clothes for Ada.’

‘It’s still not fair that the Abbouds will have to move away,’ Alice-Miranda said. She looked at the adults and their serious faces. ‘The fire was an accident. They shouldn’t be punished for that.’

‘Accident or not,’ Myrtle said with a sigh, ‘I’m afraid life often isn’t fair.’