12

When the bell went for afternoon play the next day, Rita hurried out into the playground to find Rosie. Passing the cloakroom, she unhitched her satchel from its peg and took it with her. Rosie was already outside, playing with her friend Milly.

‘We got to go now, Rosie,’ Rita said, taking her hand.

‘Where are we going, Reet?’ Rosie asked.

‘You’ll see. Come on.’

‘Can Milly come, too?’

‘No, she can’t,’ snapped Rita. ‘Come on!’ Rita was anxious to slip away as quickly as possible, so that they would be well clear of school before their absence was noticed. She had decided on afternoon playtime for their escape. Afternoon register had already been taken, and after break it was hymn practice for the whole school, so they might not be missed immediately.

Reluctantly Rosie allowed herself to be detached from Milly and led away behind the toilet block.

‘We’re going to go home now, Rosie,’ Rita said. ‘But we got to go quickly and you got to do what I say, OK?’

‘Aren’t we going home with everyone else?’ asked Rosie, bewildered.

‘Not home to Laurel House, silly,’ Rita replied. ‘We’re going home to Ship Street. We’re going home to see Mum and baby Richard. Now, come on.’

She took Rosie’s hand again and they edged their way towards the gateway and the street beyond. As they reached the open gate, the whistle went for the end of break. ‘Come on, Rosie.’ Rita dragged her little sister out of the gate, and turning right, hurried along the pavement, round the corner out of sight. The only person who saw them go was Daisy. She stared after them, feeling suddenly lonely. Rita had disappeared, taking her sister with her. All of a sudden, Daisy wished that she had a sister. Someone of her very own.

She stood irresolute in the playground as the rest of the school filed back inside. Should she tell? Now was the time to do it if she was going to. It won’t do me no good, she thought. And when Rita came back, as Daisy was certain she would, she’d have lost her only real friend.

‘Hurry up, Daisy,’ called Miss Harrison. ‘Time for hymn practice.’

‘Coming, miss.’ Daisy turned and went inside. Reet’ll be back soon enough, she thought. No one gets away from Laurel House, and when she’s back, I’ll still be there.

Once they were safely out of sight, Rita slowed her pace a little. Rosie was already dragging on her hand.

‘Where’re we going, Reet?’ whined Rosie. ‘Don’t go so fast.’

‘Told you, we’re going home. We’re going to find Mum.’

‘Will Uncle Jimmy be there?’ asked Rosie, coming to a complete stop.

Rita shrugged. ‘Don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘Maybe. Baby Richard will be.’

‘Is he our brother?’ asked Rosie.

‘Yes, you know he is. Look,’ Rita cried, setting off again and pulling Rosie along behind her, ‘there’s a 37. That’s our bus, come on.’ She hurried them along to the bus stop, and they both climbed aboard just before the bus moved on. When the conductor came down from the top deck, Rita had her money out, ready.

‘Two threepenny halves, please,’ she said and handed over the coins.

The conductor punched the tickets and moved on down the bus. Rita looked out of the window, hoping to see something she recognized, but the streets all looked the same. Some were tree-lined. There weren’t many trees in the streets near Ship Street, so she knew they weren’t near home yet. Each time the bus stopped she peered out of the window, hoping to recognize a street name. She felt a rising panic welling up inside her. How was she going to know where they should get off? She thought back to where they had got on the bus with the pig-faced woman; in the centre of the town, near the town hall. She wasn’t sure she could find her way home from there, but at least she would be quite near and she could ask someone.

Rosie was sitting beside her, legs swinging, and singing to herself as she often did. Suddenly she grabbed Rita’s arm. ‘I haven’t got Knitty!’ she wailed. ‘I want to go back.’

‘No, we can’t,’ Rita said firmly. ‘We’ll ask Mum to get him… when we get home.’

‘But I won’t have him for tonight,’ Rosie cried, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks. ‘I want him.’

‘You’ll have me with you tonight,’ Rita reminded her. ‘You won’t be on your own.’ But Rosie wasn’t to be comforted, and other passengers began to look at them. Rita was still trying to quieten her when the conductor reappeared.

‘Here,’ he said, ‘you girls should’ve got off by now. Threepence don’t take you to the end of the line, you know. Come on, off you get!’

‘But we ain’t got to our stop yet,’ protested Rita.

‘Oh yes you have,’ said the conductor, and then added, ‘Which stop was it then?’

Thinking fast, Rita said, ‘The town hall.’

The man gave a bark of laughter. ‘The town hall,’ he repeated, ‘then you certainly need to get off. We’re going the other way.’

‘The other way?’ faltered Rita. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘I mean the other way. We’re going away from the town hall. Looks like you caught the bus from the wrong side of the street.’

‘But this is a number 37…’ began Rita.

‘So it is, dearie,’ the conductor agreed, ‘but it went to the town hall before you got on. So, off you get, both of you.’ He rang the bell and moments later the bus drew up at its next stop, and Rita and Rosie had to get off. There was a bench in the bus shelter, and Rita sat down, with Rosie beside her. Despair rose up inside her, making her feel sick. They had been on the bus for ages, been going the wrong way for ages.

‘I’m hungry,’ Rosie announced. ‘Are we nearly home now?’

‘No,’ answered Rita. ‘Quiet, Rosie, I’m thinking.’ They’d have to walk, she decided. They couldn’t stay where they were, and she’d no more money. They’d have to go back along the road and see if they could find someone to ask the way. There were quite a few people about, but Rita knew she wasn’t supposed to speak to strangers, Mum and Gran had both drummed that into her. She’d have to find someone who looked safe. Someone in uniform, Mum used to say. The bus conductor had been in uniform, but he’d just dumped them off the bus.

‘I’m hungry,’ moaned Rosie again. ‘Can we have tea soon?’

Rita was hungry too. It seemed a long time since they had trailed back to Laurel House for cottage pie and cabbage lunch.

‘Come on then,’ Rita said, getting off the bench and taking Rosie’s hand. ‘Let’s go home for tea.’

They walked through the streets, as far as possible in a straight line. When they came to a side road, Rita crossed them over carefully and kept on going straight. Every now and again she found a bench at a bus stop, or outside a pub, and she let Rosie have a rest. Her own legs were tired, and Rosie was walking more and more slowly, dragging her feet.

They reached a bridge which crossed over the river, and Rita remembered the 37 had gone over a bridge on their way to Laurel House, but was it the same bridge? She gave them another rest, sitting on a bench beside the river, and watched the water slipping away under the arches that spanned it. She was exhausted, and she knew Rosie couldn’t go much further. Tears welled up in her eyes and, despite her determination not to cry, they spilled down her cheeks. Her throat hurt with trying not to sob, but Rosie saw her tears and immediately began to cry too.

‘Well, now, what have we here?’ asked a voice. ‘You both look pretty miserable.’

Rita looked up to see a tall policeman standing beside them. He was looking down at them and as she raised her eyes he gave her an encouraging smile. ‘Are you lost?’ he asked. ‘You shouldn’t be out on the streets by yourselves, you know.’

‘I’m looking after Rosie.’ Rita’s voice came out croakily through her tears.

The policeman crouched down beside them. ‘I’m sure you are,’ he said, ‘but even so, you don’t look very happy. You should be at home. Where do you live?’

Rita, still struggling with her tears, said, ‘Ship Street.’

‘Ship Street?’ The policeman sounded surprised. ‘Well, you are quite a long way from home, aren’t you? Perhaps I’d better take you there. Would that make you happier, if I walked with you?’

‘Do you know the way?’ asked Rita.

The policeman nodded. ‘Yes, I know the way. It’s quite a step from here, though.’ He stood up again and added, ‘My name’s Constable Chapman. What’s your name then, love?’

‘Rita. And this is Rosie. She’s tired. She’s only five.’

‘Perhaps I can carry her a bit,’ suggested Constable Chapman. ‘But I think we should get going again. Your mother will be wondering where you are, won’t she?’

Rita didn’t reply to this but simply slipped off the bench, saying as she did so, ‘Come on, Rosie, it’s all right. He’s got a uniform.’

The policeman picked up the little girl and hoisted her onto his back, then he took Rita by the hand and they set off. Rita felt safe with her hand held firmly in Constable Chapman’s large, warm one. At first he didn’t speak as they walked in the early evening sunshine, but after a while he couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer.

‘What were you doing so far from home, Rita?’ he asked.

For a long minute Rita didn’t answer, and then she said, ‘We was going home, and we got on a bus going the wrong way by mistake. The conductor put us off. I ain’t got no more bus money, so we had to walk.’

‘Going home?’

‘From school, only we got the wrong bus by mistake.’

‘I see,’ said the policeman, but he didn’t. He couldn’t imagine why the two little girls were so far from home. He asked no more questions. They could wait until he had reunited the girls with their parents, who must be frantic with worry. School probably came out at about half-past three, and the church clock was striking six now.

At last Rita began to recognize the streets, and she knew they were nearly home. ‘I know the way from here,’ she said, coming to a standstill and pulling her hand away.

‘I’m sure you do,’ Constable Chapman replied easily, ‘but I think I’ll deliver you to the door. Rosie’s still tired.’

‘Well, she’s had a ride,’ Rita said. ‘She can walk the last bit, can’t you, Rosie?’

‘I want Mummy,’ was all Rosie said, and clung more tightly to the policeman’s neck.

‘That’s all right, love,’ he said. ‘Nearly there. Bet she’ll be pleased to see you!’ It was Rita dragging her feet now, but Constable Chapman ignored her dawdling, thinking she was afraid of getting into trouble for being so late.

‘Which is your house?’ he asked as they turned into Ship Street. Rita hesitated, but Rosie cried out with delight, ‘There it is!’ She pointed to one of the small terraced houses. ‘We live there.’

‘Right, come on then, let’s tell Mum you’re home safe and sound.’ He walked up to the front door and rang the bell. At first there was no reply, and he wondered if the parents were out looking for the two girls, but as he was about to press the bell again, the door opened.

‘Yes? What d’you want?’ A man peered out at them, the tall policeman with Rosie on his back, peeping over his shoulder, Rita shrinking behind him. His eyes widened as he took in what he was seeing. ‘What they doing here?’ he demanded.

‘I understand they live here,’ replied the policeman, surprise in his voice. ‘Isn’t this their home?’

‘No, it ain’t!’ replied the man fiercely. ‘Not any more it ain’t.’

Constable Chapman could feel Rita’s body rigid against him, and Rosie burst into tears, burying her face in his neck. ‘Is their mother here?’ he asked the man.

‘No, she ain’t…’ began the man, but the kitchen door behind him opened and a young woman carrying a small baby came out.

‘Who is it, Jimmy?’ she asked, but as she saw who was standing on her doorstep, she gave a little cry, her hand flying to her mouth as if to stifle it.

‘Good evening, madam,’ said Constable Chapman. ‘Are these your daughters?’

He didn’t have to wait for her reply as Rosie let out a shriek. ‘Mummy!’ She let go of the policeman’s neck and slithered to the ground. The man stood unmoving, blocking the doorway. He glanced over his shoulder. ‘I told him, Mav, they don’t live here no more.’

‘And you are…?’ Constable Chapman disliked the look of this man, standing so belligerently in the doorway.

‘Jimmy Randall. And this is my house.’

‘I see.’ Constable Chapman took a step forward. ‘Perhaps we could all come in and discuss this.’

‘There ain’t nothing to discuss,’ Jimmy Randall replied.

‘But you, madam, are their mother?’ The policeman looked past Jimmy and made eye-contact with the woman who cowered behind him. She said nothing but gave a brief nod.

‘Then I think we do have something to discuss,’ he said. ‘These children are exhausted, they need food and a bed. I’m sure you don’t want any trouble, Mr Randall, so perhaps we can all come indoors…’

Jimmy Randall glowered at him, but he stood aside to let them in. Rosie was now clinging to the constable’s leg, and Rita still stood, frozen behind him. Constable Chapman gave a hand to each and, with a reassuring smile, took them indoors, following their mother into the kitchen. A baby’s bottle was lying on the table, and it was clear that Mavis had been feeding the baby when they had arrived. She sat down and reaching for the bottle, began to feed him again. The two girls still kept close to the policeman as if for protection as Jimmy Randall followed them into the kitchen.

‘Now then,’ Jimmy said, ‘what you brought these girls here for?’

‘I found them wandering the streets,’ replied Constable Chapman, ‘and they said they lived here.’

‘Well, they don’t,’ asserted Jimmy, looking challengingly at the copper who’d pushed his way into the house. ‘We ain’t got room for them. They live in an ’ome now, where they can be looked after proper. Their mother, my wife, signed all the papers, so it was done proper. Best all round, eh?’

‘Is that right, Mrs Randall?’ asked Constable Chapman.

Mavis looked up from the baby and nodded.

‘They must have run away,’ said Jimmy. He pointed at Rita. ‘She’ll be behind it. She’s always trouble, that one.’

As he was speaking, Rosie let go of the policeman’s hand and edged her way to where her mother sat. She put a hand on the baby. ‘Is that my brother?’ she asked.

Her mother nodded, unable to speak, the tears streaming down her cheeks. She reached out an arm and gathered her daughter to her, burying her face in the blonde curls. Rita stood beside Constable Chapman, watching. She longed to run to her mother too, but something held her back.

The policeman turned to her. ‘Have you run away?’ he asked gently.

Rita nodded, and PC Chapman crouched down beside her and took her hand in his. ‘Why? Why did you run away?’

Rita gulped and then whispered, ‘I wanted to come home. I want my mum.’

The simplicity of this statement brought unexpected tears to the big man’s eyes. He blinked them away, saying, ‘I’m sure you do. Why don’t you give her a hug now?’ He gave her a little push, and she moved round the table.

‘Mum,’ she said and reached out her arms. Mavis looked at her stricken; with baby Richard in one arm and the other round Rosie, she had no hand to extend to Rita. Rita saw this and stopped. For a moment they were still, a family group that wasn’t a family, then Constable Chapman stepped forward and gently took the baby from Mavis’s arms, so that Rita could take his place.

‘Here,’ growled Jimmy, ‘that’s my baby.’

Chapman turned to him, and without a word passed him the child. Turning back he saw the mother had gathered both her daughters against her, and all three were weeping.

A ring on the doorbell, loud and long, demanded entry. Mavis didn’t look up and as the sound was repeated, louder and longer, Jimmy answered the door. A woman’s voice sounded in the narrow hallway, harsh and strident. It was the pig-faced woman.

‘There you are,’ she cried. ‘You wicked, wicked children. How dare you run off like that!’

Chapman stepped forward, barring her way forward. ‘Good evening, madam,’ he said. ‘May I ask who you are?’

The woman faltered for a moment in the face of his uniform but then said, ‘Good evening, Constable, I am May Hopkins, Children’s Officer for this district. I have come to retrieve these naughty girls and return them to their home.’

‘Which is…?’

‘Laurel House EVER-Care home. They disappeared from school today. Everyone has been so worried.’ She turned again to the two girls, still clinging to their mother. ‘You’re very bad girls,’ she told them. ‘You’ve caused a great deal of trouble. Now then, you’re coming with me.’

Rosie immediately began to scream, a high-pitched scream, and Rita simply allowed the tears to flood down her cheeks.

‘We just wanted to come home,’ she gulped. ‘We wanted to see Mum.’

‘Well, now you’ve seen her,’ growled Jimmy, ‘you can go back where you belong.’

‘Don’t they belong here?’ asked the policeman quietly.

‘No they bloody don’t,’ said Jimmy. ‘We signed the papers, right and tight. She ain’t their mum no more.’

‘Jimmy, couldn’t we just—’ began Mavis, her eyes pleading, her arms still tight about her girls.

‘No, Mavis. I told you,’ he snapped, holding the baby up in the air, ‘you and me and Rick’s a family now.’

‘Just for tonight, Jimmy, let them stay just for tonight? I promise—’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Randall,’ interrupted Miss Hopkins, ‘but that won’t be possible. I have to take them with me now. Miss Vanstone’s sent a car.’

‘Miss Vanstone? Who’s she?’ asked the constable.

‘She is the founder and benefactress of the EVER-Care children’s home,’ announced Miss Hopkins. ‘When she heard that these children had gone missing, she very generously sent a car so I could bring them back.’

‘I don’t want to go back,’ cried Rita, finding her voice at last. ‘It’s horrible there. When Rosie wet her bed, they wrapped her in the wet sheet, and…’ She took a deep breath. ‘And they beat me with a belt.’

‘’Spect you deserved it,’ retorted Jimmy.

‘Rubbish,’ snapped Miss Hopkins, with a quick glance at the policeman. ‘There’s no such chastisement at Laurel House.’ She turned on Rita. ‘You’re a wicked child to tell such lies. Everything is provided for you at Laurel House, you lack nothing.’

Except love, thought Constable Chapman, but he kept his thought to himself. He could see that, however much he hated the idea, these two little girls were going to be returned to the orphanage. The stepfather refused to have them, the weak mother was unable to withstand him, and the Children’s Officer was determined that her authority to take them was assured.

‘You may kiss your mother goodbye,’ Miss Hopkins said, as if she were granting the girls a great favour, ‘and then we must go.’

Mavis gave one last despairing look at her husband, but Jimmy turned away, jogging his son up and down in his arms, and ignoring everyone else in the room. She held both girls close for a moment, kissing their wet cheeks, and then she too turned away.

Miss Hopkins pushed past the policeman and took each of them by the hand. ‘Come along,’ she said briskly, and led them, still weeping, out of the room. Rosie’s screams of ‘Mummy! Mummy! I want Mummy!’ echoed through the house as Miss Hopkins dragged her out to the street and into the waiting car.

‘An’ you can get out, an all,’ said Jimmy, swinging round and addressing Chapman. ‘You’ve interfered enough!’

Constable Chapman ignored him and looked over at Mavis who had collapsed, sobbing, back onto her chair. ‘Will you be all right, Mrs Randall?’ he asked gently.

‘Course she will,’ snapped Jimmy. ‘I’ll look after her. Now, get out of my house.’

Unable to do more, Constable Chapman left the house without saying another word. He was more affected by the events of the last hour than he could have imagined. The sound of Rosie’s cries resounded in his head, and he knew it would be a long time before he forgot the despair in her childish voice. How could a mother let her children be taken from her like that? He walked to the end of the street, and then, on hearing a door banging, he turned and looked back the way he had come. Jimmy Randall had come out of the house, slamming the door behind him, clearly heading for the pub at the end of the road.

Emily Vanstone was at Laurel House when it was discovered that the Stevens girls had gone missing.

‘I’m afraid that Rita Stevens has been a problem ever since she arrived here,’ Mrs Hawkins said. ‘Within an hour of her being here she had bitten one of the older girls who’d been asked to keep an eye on her. She’s a sullen little thing and unfortunately has palled up with Daisy Smart, another of our more difficult children.’

‘I see,’ said Miss Vanstone, ‘and how have you dealt with her?’

‘Fairly leniently at first,’ replied Mrs Hawkins, ‘after all Laurel House was new to her, but when she continued to flout the house rules, I was more severe and she was put on punishment for a whole day.’ She gave Miss Vanstone a thin smile. ‘It is usually enough to bring a child to heel, spending a day on her own, and having only bread and water.’

‘I see.’ Miss Vanstone looked thoughtful. She did not know the extent of the punishments that her superintendent used, nor did she want to. As long as the home ran smoothly she never enquired into the day to day running. Occasionally there were problems, but she could not remember the last time a child had absconded. Most of the children had nowhere to go anyway, but the Stevens girls? Perhaps the punishment day had been too severe.

‘How has the little one, Rosie, settled in?’ she asked.

Mrs Hawkins shifted a little and said casually, ‘Not as difficult as her sister. She’s a bed-wetter. Of course, she’s been reprimanded for that.’

Emily Vanstone nodded. ‘And you’re quite sure that they’re missing?’

‘Quite sure,’ insisted Mrs Hawkins. ‘They were not in the crocodile when it reached Laurel House, and no one can say for sure whether they were there at the end of school.’

‘Is there no roll call?’ asked Miss Vanstone.

‘Not before they leave school,’ admitted Mrs Hawkins, ‘but of course,’ she added with a thin smile, ‘if they walked out during school hours, that would be the school’s responsibility, wouldn’t it?’

‘Have you spoken to the headmistress?’

‘Oh, yes, as soon as I heard they weren’t home here, I rang the school. Luckily Miss Harrison was still there. She checked the registers. They’d both been there at afternoon registration. When I suggested that the class teachers should have noticed their absence, she said that the whole school was together for hymn practice, with the music teacher. Class teachers don’t sit in on that, and the children are dismissed from the hall. No one would have noticed if two of the children were missing.’

‘The other children would have,’ remarked Miss Vanstone. ‘You say Rita and Daisy Smart are friends?’

‘Yes,’ answered Mrs Hawkins, ‘unfortunately.’

‘Have you spoken to Daisy?’

‘Certainly, straight away. I asked her if she knew where Rita was, but she said she didn’t.’

‘Let’s have her in and ask again,’ said Miss Vanstone. ‘We can be almost certain that they’ve gone home, but we need to be sure.’

While the superintendent was fetching Daisy, Emily Vanstone reached for the phone and rang the Children’s Office at the town hall but was told that Miss Hopkins had already left for the day. Thoughtfully, she replaced the receiver. She had a home number for Miss Hopkins, but first she would speak to Daisy. Rita hadn’t simply run away because she’d been punished, she had taken her little sister with her. She had planned her escape carefully. Surely Daisy would have known about it.

‘Thank you, Mrs Hawkins,’ she said when the superintendent arrived back with Daisy in tow. ‘I’ll give you a call if I need you.’

Mrs Hawkins flushed. She didn’t like being dismissed like that in front of one of the children, but she turned for the door, saying as she did so, ‘I’ll be in the dining room.’

‘Please make sure that some tea is saved for Daisy,’ instructed Miss Vanstone. ‘I’ll try not to keep her too long.’

When the door shut behind Mrs Hawkins, Miss Vanstone looked at the little girl standing in front of her. ‘Come and sit down, Daisy,’ she said, pointing to a chair by the desk. Daisy edged forward and perched on the chair. She guessed why she was here, so she wasn’t surprised when Miss Vanstone said, ‘You know Rita and Rosie Stevens are missing?’

‘Yes, Miss Vanstone.’

‘Rita’s your particular friend, isn’t she?’

‘She’s in my dorm,’ Daisy replied carefully. Rita was already in trouble, but Daisy wanted to stay out of it.

‘And in your class at school.’ It was a statement, not a question.

‘Yes.’

‘We think Rita and Rosie have run away. Do you know where they might have gone?’

Daisy shrugged.

‘I expect they’ve gone home, don’t you?’

‘Don’t know, miss.’

‘The thing is, Daisy, that if they are wandering about in the town they could be in danger. Little Rosie’s only five, isn’t she? How were they going to get home, do you think?’

‘Don’t know, miss.’

‘I mean,’ continued Miss Vanstone, almost as if talking to herself, ‘they won’t have had any money, will they? Not even enough for a bus fare.’

‘Don’t know, miss.’

‘Yes, Daisy, I think you do. Rita must have planned how they were going to go…’ She let the end of the sentence hang in the air, but Daisy said nothing.

‘Did you know that Rita’s mother had just had another baby?’ Emily Vanstone tried a different tack. Daisy didn’t answer.

‘Come on, Daisy, I’m sure she told you that. You were her friend.’

Daisy nodded.

‘And because you’re her friend you don’t want to tell on her now, do you?’

Daisy shook her head and Miss Vanstone smiled. ‘So, you do know what she planned.’

‘She didn’t tell me,’ Daisy maintained, ‘but I ’spect she went home to her mum.’

‘Thank you, Daisy,’ said Miss Vanstone. ‘You can go and have your tea now.’

When the girl had left the room Emily Vanstone leaned back in her chair and considered her options. She didn’t want to report the children missing to the police, not yet. She would ring May Hopkins and send her round to see if the girls had gone home.

Indeed, thought Miss Vanstone, I’ll send her in my car and she can bring them straight back without any fuss. She reached for the telephone.

Within an hour Miss Hopkins returned to Laurel House with the two runaways, and brought them straight into Miss Vanstone’s office. Both children were clearly upset. Rita, white-faced and tear-streaked, stood mute, as Miss Hopkins described how she had found them. Rosie was still whimpering, crying for her mother.

‘Thank you, Miss Hopkins,’ said Miss Vanstone, when the Children’s Officer had finished. ‘My driver will take you home.’ She looked across at the two miserable children. ‘I’ll look after them now.’

Miss Hopkins turned towards the door, but was unable to leave the children without saying, ‘You’re very naughty girls. I’m sure you’ll be severely punished.’

Miss Vanstone waited for the door to close behind her before saying, ‘She’s right, you know. It was naughty to run away like that. Everyone’s been so worried about you.’ She looked across at Rita. ‘You shouldn’t have taken your sister out of school, Rita. It wasn’t safe to wander about in the streets like that. Thank goodness the policeman found you.’

Rita said nothing. Rosie murmured, ‘I want Mummy.’

‘Have you nothing to say for yourself, Rita?’

Rita was certain that nothing she said would make any difference, but she answered. ‘Rosie wet her bed, and they made her stand on her stool with the wet sheet over her head.’

‘I see,’ said Miss Vanstone. ‘And what about you? What were you punished for?’

‘Rosie was frightened. I just went into her dorm to sleep. We’ve always slept together. We was asleep in bed, that’s all.’ She did not tell this frightening lady about the Hawk and the beating. She wouldn’t believe her any more than the pig-faced woman had.

‘I see,’ said Miss Vanstone again. ‘Well, things are different at Laurel House, Rita. We don’t allow that sort of thing.’ She turned her attention back to Rosie. ‘You can stop that moaning, young lady,’ she said. ‘Your mother isn’t here and isn’t going to be. She has sent you here to be looked after, and this is where you’ll stay. We’ll have no more of this nonsense. No more wet beds, no more sleeping with Rita. You’re a big girl now. Laurel House is where you live, and you’d both better get used to it.’ She paused and looked at the two children standing in front of her. ‘Now, go to your dormitories and go to bed. I want to hear no more of you. Tomorrow you’ll start afresh.’

‘I’m hungry,’ whimpered Rosie.

‘You’ll be even hungrier by breakfast,’ retorted Miss Vanstone. ‘Now off you go, and I don’t want to see either of you in here again.’

When the door had closed behind them, Miss Vanstone sat back in her chair and considered what had happened. Mrs Hawkins was right, Rita Stevens could make trouble. The problem is, she thought, that they’re really living too close to their mother, and suppose the mother changed her mind too? She rang the bell and sent for Mrs Hawkins.

‘You were right about Rita being difficult,’ she agreed, ‘so we’ll have to do something about them both, and quickly, before she causes any more trouble. I think we’ll send them in the group going to Carrabunna.’ She looked up at Mrs Hawkins. ‘It’ll get them out of your hair. I’ll get the documentation sorted out. You can organize their passports. In the meantime, please watch them extremely carefully. We don’t want a repeat performance of this, it gives the home a bad name. I gather the police were involved.’

‘Just one policeman,’ Mrs Hawkins assured her. ‘He found them wandering about and took them home.’

‘Well,’ said Miss Vanstone, ‘if anyone from the police does come round, please ensure you refer him to me.’

‘Yes, indeed, Miss Vanstone.’ The superintendent was relieved. She had no wish to be interviewed by the police about any punishment that she had meted out to Rita. ‘I’ll get on to their passports straight away.’