After the Rain

In the course of the following term Miss Carson kept an eye on her protégée, but after the visit from Ada, and as much as she regretted it, she decided that any more intimate form of communication must stop and their relationship must be strictly that of pupil and teacher. No more home visits. She was afraid that if she ignored Ada’s warning Lottie would be withdrawn from the school altogether.

Maybe Lottie appreciated it, too. If she regretted the end of visits to the magical house in Thorndon, the stimulation of thoughts of a better way of life, she understood the reason for it, having had a graphic account from her mother of her meeting with the teacher.

But not only did her relationship with Miss Carson change, the one with her mother changed too and deteriorated even further. It was as if Ada had cemented her hostility to her daughter, no longer trusted her and was suspicious of everything she did. She would cross-examine her constantly about the people she was seeing and asked her repeatedly if she had seen Miss Carson’s sister, to which Lottie was truthfully able to reply that she had not. There was continual fault-picking all the time until Lottie dreaded going home each day, uncertain what she would encounter. Spurred on by that dream of a golden future, however, she was determined throughout all this time that her work would not suffer, sometimes working through the night to deliver an essay for the following day.

Towards the end of term Lottie and Bella got home one day to find that there was no familiar figure of their father sitting in his corner, eager to welcome them to relieve the boredom of his existence. This worried Lottie immediately, as of late his fits of coughing had repeatedly woken her during the night.

Lottie shrugged, but she was worried. Their father seldom, if ever, went out and as time passed and their mother didn’t turn up with Jack her anxiety increased.

She and Bella went up to change out of their school uniforms and when she came down she began to get tea, anxious not to have another rebuke when her mother returned.

She was still in the kitchen when she heard the front door open and she hurried out to find her mother, clearly out of breath, taking off her coat, Jack cowering by her side.

‘Your father’s in the hospital. He had a bad coughing attack just as I was leaving this morning, couldn’t get his breath, so I had to run to the doctor who came and called the ambulance. I can’t tell you what a bother this was and Mrs Ellis was at first angry with me for being late. Just like your father to be so inconsiderate. I went back to the hospital and all he had was an asthma attack. They will let him out tomorrow.’

She threw her hat angrily on the table, even shouted at her precious Jack, cuffing him lightly on the ear, and sent him up to change. All the indications were, Lottie knew, that they were all in for a very bad evening. ‘Is the tea ready yet, Lottie?’

Ada sat down, her eyes fixed on the empty seat in the corner. ‘I can’t tell you what a worry your father is. It is no life for me. Sometimes I don’t get any sleep. He does nothing to help himself, but sits slumped in that blasted chair all day while we wait on him hand and foot. The war is over now and he is lucky to be alive. No one asked him to go, so he has only himself to blame. I wish there was some home he could go to permanently and then we’d all have a bit of peace.’

‘Oh, I know you always defend your father.’ Ada’s resentment hardened. ‘You never think about me, do you, Lottie? You take after him, selfish to the core. You defend him and he defends you. You deserve each other. Mrs Ellis doesn’t know how I put up with it. After I explained today why I was late she was very kind to me. Made me sit down and gave me a cup of tea.’

And then to Lottie’s dismay and astonishment Ada put her head in her hands and her shoulders shook in a violent spasm of weeping.

Lottie had never seen her mother cry and didn’t know what to do. She stood gaping at her for a moment and then, stooping, very gently put a hand on her shoulder.

Ada seized her hand and crushed it in hers, looking up at her daughter with tears still streaming down her face.

‘You don’t understand, do you, Lottie? You think I’m cruel. But you don’t know how much I have suffered since your father went off to war. Fancy leaving me with three children, one scarcely a baby, and little means of support, reading daily about all the fatalities our forces were suffering and wondering if he would be killed. Then, when he came back, he had completely changed from the man I married. Oh, you should have seen him when he was young. He was so good looking, dashing and vital. Unlike anyone I had ever met before. My parents bitterly opposed me marrying him as he had a menial job as a driver, and my father had a good position as a store manager, a position of authority, but Desmond told me his prospects were good and he had a bright future, maybe one day owning a fleet of trucks like the people he worked for.’ She paused and sighed wistfully. ‘Those early days were so good and happy. I was only eighteen – seventeen when I met him so had no chance to make a career for myself. I was headstrong – a bit like you, Lottie, which is maybe where you get it from. I always thought I knew best. After I ran off with Des my parents would have nothing to do with me and when I tried to contact them during the war they sent me away and said I deserved all I got, even having no interest in their grandchildren. You didn’t know that, did you, Lottie?’

‘No, Mum.’ Lottie, still holding her mother’s hand, drew up a chair from the table and sat by her side.

‘You see, I’ve protected you from all these things. I have been so lonely and alone.’ Ada started weeping again and Lottie, still shocked and unprepared for this show of emotion, continued to make soothing noises and cling on to her mother’s hand.

‘Oh.’ Ada appeared to consider this and then slowly shook her head. ‘No, no. I will continue to make sacrifices for you. If you get a good education and a better job as Miss Carson said you will, we will all benefit. No.’ She patted Lottie’s hand and managed a bleak smile. ‘You must go on at school and I will do my best to support the family and cope with your father. How, I don’t know, but I will.’

Ada stood up and ran a hand over her face, smudging her tears. ‘Now go and get those children who I suspect have been lurking upstairs listening to all this, and let’s have our tea.’ She looked appraisingly at her daughter. ‘You’re a good girl at times, Lottie, but a difficult one. Sometimes I feel I don’t understand you and I do wonder what will happen to you. I only hope your life won’t be like that of mine and your father’s, full of disappointments and broken promises.’

Lottie dropped her mother’s hand with the feeling that, despite this display of emotion, nothing would ever really change.

During the Easter holiday Lottie resumed her job with Kirkcaldies, who were beginning to value her as a potential permanent employee. She was eminently presentable, eager and quick to learn and the possibility was suggested that, if all went well, work on the serving counter with direct access to the public might be a possibility in the winter.

Lottie enjoyed getting out of the house, now even more so because it took her away from the situation at home which, if anything, had deteriorated since her father’s return from hospital. Her mother kept on telling him what a burden he was and how suitable it would be if he could stay in hospital, or some similar institution, permanently. For a man of only thirty-seven, even the suggestion was like a life sentence.

Leaving the store early one Saturday afternoon and making her way along Lambton Quay, Lottie was hailed by a familiar voice and, stopping, saw coming along the street behind her Violet Carson with the usual collection of bags and parcels in both arms. She paused and smiled. ‘Lottie, how lovely to bump into you again like this. How are you?’

Violet looked at her solemnly. ‘I don’t suppose I can persuade you to come home with me?’

‘Yes, Madeleine told me. I am sorry, but we still can be friends, can’t we?’

‘Look, I’ve got my car. It’s such a lovely day. Why don’t we drive along to Petone Beach? We can just chat. That’s all right, isn’t it?’

‘Well . . .’ Lottie looked doubtful. ‘I should get home.’ Then, ‘Just an hour, maybe.’

‘Good. My car’s just along there.’ Violet pointed to Brandon Street that ran alongside Kirkcaldies, going towards the harbour. Feeling guilty that she was doing something she shouldn’t, but nevertheless with a sense of excitement, Lottie climbed in beside Violet, who headed the car along the coast road in the direction of Petone Beach.

Lottie shook her head. It was difficult to hear with the roof of the car down and the sea breeze blowing strongly in their faces, so she didn’t reply but remained immersed in her thoughts, which again were of envy at the disparity between her lifestyle and that of Violet, only too apparent. She never swam and could not recall a day out which was given to sheer enjoyment, so bogged down was she by the dreary routine of her daily life.

They came in sight of the beach where there were already swimmers in the water, and after Violet parked the car they sat for a few minutes looking at the scene, the long beach surrounded by hills overlooking the harbour. Violet reached into the back of the car for a sun hat and offered it to Lottie, who shook her head.

‘No, thanks, I’m OK. I love the feel of the sun on my face.’ She flung back her head and looked up at the clear blue sky. ‘Thank you so much, Vi, for bringing me here. What luck we bumped into each other.’

Violet looked pleased. ‘Shall we have a walk along the beach?’ They got out of the car and started to stroll along the shore.

Impulsively Violet tucked her arm through Lottie’s, who felt a warmth, a kinship emanating from the older girl and pressed her arm in response.

‘How have you been, Lottie? We’ve really missed you. I haven’t even had the chance to show you round the college, though I must say I prefer shopping to study, which makes my sister very cross. How is your father? Madeleine said you told her he had spent a few days in hospital. Very worrying for you.’

‘It was very worrying. Dad has chronic problems with his lungs on account of his experiences in the war. He is frequently breathless.’

Lottie stopped and looked at her. ‘That would be wonderful, if it could be arranged.’

‘I’ll arrange it. Don’t worry. Maybe it will bring your mother round to letting you visit us again.’ She peered at her closely. ‘Why doesn’t your mother like you coming to see us? Is it because Madeleine is your teacher?’

‘I think she feels I will get ideas above my station,’ Lottie said with a wry smile. ‘Especially since the war, life has been hard for us and it has made my mother very bitter. She thinks I should be doing a job to make money and support the family and, in many ways, she is right. Your way of life is quite different from ours. We’re not of the same class. The first time I came to see you I felt out of my depth, quite upset, in fact, and told my mum in a moment of weakness that I had felt I didn’t belong. She said I shouldn’t visit you again and I said I wouldn’t. But the second time, when you took me home, I enjoyed myself but she was very angry I’d gone. I think she has had one or two upsetting scenes with Miss Carson and I’m very sorry about that because I like Miss Carson and she is very good to me, but she and Mum do not get on. Mum is very proud and doesn’t like being patronized.’

‘It is kind of you to suggest it. But, you see, there is the problem of money.’

‘Oh, that will not come into it. I would never have suggested it if you had to pay.’

Excited for once and optimistic, Lottie opened the door without her usual feeling of dread and apprehension. The house was very quiet and in the sitting room she found, for a change, her mother half asleep in a chair, her legs stretched out before her while in his corner Desmond snoozed over the paper. His loud breathing was the only sound to break the silence in the room.

Lottie crept into the kitchen without disturbing them and emerged a few minutes later with a pot of tea, milk, cups and saucers – sounds which disturbed Ada, who stirred, rubbed her eyes and said, ‘My goodness, what is this? Whatever is the time?’

‘Time for a cup of tea, Mum,’ Lottie said brightly, pouring the tea and handing her mother a cup.

‘It’s my half day, Mum, and guess what?’ She poured herself tea and sat down by her mother’s side. ‘I bumped into Violet Carson as I was leaving the store.’

‘Oh.’ The pleasant expression immediately vanished from her mother’s face and she visibly stiffened.

‘I didn’t go back to the house, Mum, but we did have a talk and she asked how Dad was and – what do you think? Her father is a chest specialist and she offered to arrange for him to see Dad.’

Almost on cue Desmond woke up, half taking in that the conversation was about him.

‘There we go again.’ Ada thumped her empty cup down on the table. ‘Being patronized by the wealthy Carsons. I don’t know what they’ve done to you, Lottie. Bewitched you, if you ask me. Have you no pride? If you haven’t, I have. No thank you. We don’t want handouts from them.’

‘But Ada,’ Desmond intervened in a weak voice. ‘If it enabled me to go back to work . . .’

‘Have you no pride either, Desmond O’Brien? If you got out of that chair and walked around a bit you would do yourself a world of good. Instead you are slumped there all day, nose in the paper while I slave all the hours God sends.’ She stood up and shook her hand threateningly at him. ‘I tell you I am heartily sick of it. Sick of you all. I’d like to leave you all to it and see how you get on then. Maybe then you’ll get off your backside, Desmond, and start thinking about others.’

‘Mum, I don’t know how you can talk to Dad like that,’ Lottie said, outraged. ‘You know he is a very sick man. The hospital said so.’

‘And then what did the hospital do about it? Nothing. What did they do for an ex-serviceman? Nothing. Your father signed his own death warrant when he volunteered to go overseas and fight for a country he didn’t know and which the majority of Irish people don’t even like. Hate, in fact.’

‘That was the Catholics.’ Desmond gasped. ‘We were Irish Protestants, part of England.’

‘No, you were a New Zealander, Desmond O’Brien, born and bred. Your place was here, doing a good job as you had before the war when we were all happy and well looked after, when I didn’t have to work my fingers to the bone and we all had enough to eat!’

Desmond slumped back in his chair gasping, anxious and solicitous. Worried but also angry with her mother, Lottie poured him a cup of tea and brought it over to him.

‘There, Dad. Don’t get so upset. I wish I’d never mentioned it but it seemed such a wonderful opportunity to see a specialist privately. I might have known Mum would react like this. I told Violet Carson as much, but then she said that if Mum cared about you . . .’

‘Your mother cares nothing about me, Lottie. You know that. I think she wishes I had been killed in the war and then it is true you would all be a lot better off.’

Bella, as usual, was waiting for Lottie as she emerged from the classroom after school during the first week of the Easter term. Lottie thought it was high time that Bella found her own way home and her sister’s dependence grated on her. Sometimes she would have liked to stay on at school to work quietly in the library, away from the tensions and frustrations caused by the atmosphere at home. Ever since her mother’s outburst and tirade against her father her parents had not been speaking to each other. She had thought rows and angry outbursts were bad enough, but somehow this eerie silence was even worse and extended to her parents’ bedroom as well. She wondered how they could bear sharing a bed, but with only three small bedrooms they had no alternative.

A girl of mixed emotions, highs and lows, Bella was in an unusually cheerful mood. She had been selected for the school basketball team. Lottie, too, was happy with the way the day had gone, so they chatted happily as they walked along and then, running up the path, flung open the front door.

As usual, their father was in his chair but unusually not half asleep with the paper on his lap. Instead he rose from his chair to greet them and then when he saw them and the bright smiles on their faces sank back in his chair and, to their astonishment, began to weep.

Lottie threw down her school bag and hurried to his side. ‘Dad, whatever is the matter? Are you not well?’

For a moment her father didn’t reply as his shoulders shook with sobs. It was an unnerving sight. Bella also stood anxiously by Lottie’s side, finger in her mouth like a little girl, happiness gone.

Lottie nodded and as Bella left the room she repeated her question to her father, gently shaking his shoulder, both in an effort to comfort him and to try and elicit the reason for this outburst. ‘Dad? Dad?’

Finally he attempted to stem his tears and dabbed at his eyes with a grubby handkerchief. ‘Your mother’s gone,’ he said, looking at her bleakly. ‘Left us.’

‘She didn’t say.’ He started to cry again as the enormity of what her father was saying gradually dawned on Lottie. ‘She didn’t go to work this morning, didn’t take Jack to school and I wondered what she was up to as she spent most of the morning upstairs. She said nothing. As you know, for days she has not said a word to me, so that was nothing unusual. But then, around noon, she came down carrying two suitcases with Jack and he had one too, and they were both dressed for going out.’ Desmond’s chest heaved again. ‘And she stood there . . .’ He pointed in front of him with a finger that shook. ‘She stood there and said “I’m leaving you, Desmond. I’m sick of the sight of you, and the girls, especially Lottie, who I have no time for at all. They can look after you”. And then without another word, before I had the chance to open my mouth, she took up the suitcases and left, pushing little Jack, who had started to cry in front of her, never even giving him the chance to kiss me goodbye.’

Suddenly fresh sobs rent the air and, turning, Lottie saw Bella sink on to a chair and start weeping, having first carefully put a tea tray down on the table. ‘Oh, Mum,’ she started wailing. ‘How could Mum do this to us?’

Lottie, her emotions ranging from shock, bewilderment to downright anger, could think of no suitable reply, but put her arm round her sister’s shoulder and hugged her tightly.

‘Perhaps if I’d have been here Mum would have taken me too,’ Bella continued in her dirge-like voice.

Lottie turned on her wrathfully. ‘Bella, how could you say a thing like that?’

‘I’ll miss Jack, too.’ Lottie suddenly realized just how much she would miss her little brother and thought, with a pang of pain, of him being pushed out of the house without even being allowed to kiss his father goodbye. How could anyone do that to a child – any child, never mind one as vulnerable as Jack?

‘I don’t think she will. There was something so final about the way she left. You look upstairs.’

‘Let’s have some tea first,’ Lottie said practically, and poured him a cup while Bella went on sniveling in the chair beside her. ‘Mum must have said where she’d gone?’ Lottie said, handing him his cup.

Lottie poured herself a cup of tea, gave one to Bella and when she had finished hers ran swiftly upstairs and into her parents’ room.

There was an air about it that justified her father’s verdict. It all looked different, as if she’d swept it clean of her personal belongings. But for someone who had lived there such a long time, surely there would be more bits and pieces left lying around? But nothing. Her mother had really had very few possessions. She wore the same clothes day after day and none were left in the wardrobe or in the chest of drawers. It seemed to show Lottie just how destitute her parents were. In fact, how, as a family, they all were, and she thought of the Carsons and the wardrobe stuffed with clothes, even some spare like the tennis dresses in Violet’s bedroom.

It then occurred to Lottie, as she slowly made her way down the stairs, that as it was unlikely to have been a sudden decision, maybe her mother had been planning this for some time and had been sneaking a few things to wherever it was she had planned to escape. Was that the right word, ‘escape’? Yes, it was. Her mother had done what she for so long had wanted to do: escape to freedom. Now Lottie was chained, seemingly forever, to looking after her father and younger sister.

Once more she railed inwardly about their circumstances and resolved, in her heart, to make a better life for herself one day, however long it took.

The thing now was to continue to behave as normally as possible. To make things easy for her father and Bella to help them all get over the crisis. As for herself, combined with her anger and resentment over her mother’s behaviour was, strangely, a sense of relief. Could it be that things in the O’Brien household might actually improve?

The week following her mother’s departure was a difficult one. Even her father seemed to miss the perpetual abuse and nagging he got day after day from his wife and Bella moped about like a lost soul and spent a lot of time weeping once they got home after school.

Lottie herself, despite her good resolution, found herself struggling. Without her mother’s wage what was there to live on except the small war pension her father got and the pitiful amount of money she got from Kirkcaldies? She did all the washing, cleaning and cooking as Bella was absolutely useless and her father had never lifted a hand anyway. Naturally her school work was suffering and so was her sleep, and she spent wakeful nights agonizing about the future, which seemed in reality to be a hopeless fantasy.

Daily, Lottie expected to hear from her mother or to see her when they got home from school, but all she found was her father even more dejected than he had been, unwashed, unshaven, morose and gradually sinking into a deep depression.

Towards the end of the week Lottie got home after a particularly difficult day. Her most recent essay had failed to get her usual high marks and Miss Carson had solemnly asked her if anything was amiss, commenting too on her appearance, her tired face and the bags under her eyes. Lottie had shook her head, assuring her that everything was all right, but instead of staying to chat had left as soon as she could, saying that Bella was waiting for her. She knew from her expression that Miss Carson was unconvinced.

As usual, Lottie found her father slumped in his chair half asleep, as if he didn’t sleep enough. She sent Bella up to change while she tidied up and then her eyes alighted on a letter on the table addressed to her mother. ‘What’s this?’ she asked, showing her father the envelope, and he jerked his head up and stared at it.

‘Well . . .’ Her father sank back in his chair. ‘Well, it was to be kept a secret from you. I don’t know why, but as usual I did everything your mother said. When your mother wanted you to leave school the school arranged for a sum of money to help out. It is very little. Only a few pounds a week. Your mother always kept it and put it in her pocket and that’s all I know about it.’

‘Oh, some time. It was when your mum saw Miss Carson about you leaving school. But the money came from the school, from some fund, or that’s what I understood.’

‘The money came from the school to support me and encourage Mum to let me stay on? I don’t believe it.’

‘But it’s true.’ Her father pointed to the envelope. ‘You look inside it. You’ll find some money there – five pounds, I think it is. You just put it in your pocket and spend it on getting some decent food for us, a piece of meat or something substantial. Not that I feel like food.’ He sank back against his chair, then looked up and put out his hand. ‘I do feel for you, Lottie. But I don’t really know how we are going to go on coping. I really don’t. I am useless. With the best will in the world I can’t see what the future holds or how we can exist and go on paying the rent for this house.’

Lottie said nothing but stood studying the writing on the envelope, which was familiar from all the notes and remarks that had peppered her essays. Then she slit open the envelope and, sure enough, drew out five crisp pound notes and a handwritten note.

Dear Mrs O’Brien, it said, in Miss Carson’s familiar, precise handwriting, please find enclosed, as usual, five pounds.

Yours sincerely,

Madeleine Carson

The last lesson was English and after the class ended and the pupils began to file out Miss Carson remained perched on her stool behind her high desk, a stack of books to mark in front of her.

Lottie lingered until the last one had left and then came up to the teacher, who looked at her with a smile. ‘May I talk to you, Miss Carson?’

She got up from her desk and went to the front row, where she took a seat inviting Lottie to sit beside her.

Feeling awkward, embarrassed and less confident now, despite her resolution to be firm and strong, Lottie drew the envelope from her pocket and placed it on the desk in front of Miss Carson who looked at it, then at Lottie and said, ‘Oh?’

‘I don’t understand this, Miss Carson. The school has been paying my mother to keep me here?’

Trying to choose her words carefully, Miss Carson said, ‘Not exactly, Lottie. It was when your mother wanted to take you away and I offered this as the sort of money you might expect to earn if you left. I thought you were such an exceptional student and I only had your best interests at heart.’

Miss Carson, clearly ill at ease, shifted uncomfortably in her chair. ‘Knowing you as a very proud girl, I thought you would consider it, well, patronizing.’

‘I do,’ Lottie said with a steely note in her voice and, taking back the envelope, she withdrew the pound notes still inside and spread them out in front of Miss Carson.

‘It is kind of you and I am sure you had the best in intentions, but I don’t want your charity or that of the school, thank you. Also, my mother has now left home so she doesn’t need the money.’

‘I heard that,’ Miss Carson said quietly. ‘Apparently Bella is very upset about it. I’m rather surprised you didn’t say anything to me.’

‘I shall have to leave school and take my mother’s place, Miss Carson, to help support the family. There is no doubt about that now, no question of my staying on. So if you would make an appointment for me to see the Head I can tell her this and offer to repay all the money once I am earning my own.’

Miss Carson began to look visibly distressed. ‘Really, that is not necessary, Lottie. Your whole future is in front of you . . .’

Lottie interrupted her. ‘Miss Carson, we can’t live on five pounds a week. Apart from a small war pension my father has there is nothing else for us to live on.’

‘We don’t know. When Bella and I came home last week my father, very distressed, told me she just left with my young brother Jack and did not say where she was going. We have no idea where she is and have no means of contacting her.’

‘Ask my mother. If you knew her well you might not be so surprised. I think Kirkcaldies might give me a job. They told me during the holiday they were very pleased with my work and that during other school holidays there might be an opportunity for me to work in the store instead of the stockroom.’

Moved by Miss Carson’s obvious distress, Lottie’s expression softened. ‘Believe me, I am grateful for your concern, Miss Carson. I might not seem to be, but I am. However, although life with my mother was difficult, we were used to it and somehow we got by. My father, however, is a very sick man and he needs all the help he can get.’

‘I think Violet suggested he might see our father. That offer is still open, Lottie. My father is very eminent in his field. I know you might consider this charity, but it is not. It is sincerely meant to help a brave ex-serviceman and I hope for your father’s sake you will consider it.’

To her anger and embarrassment, Lottie felt tears prick the back of her eyes and momentarily she struggled for words.

Miss Carson leaned forward and put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Believe me, Lottie, I don’t mean to be patronizing. That was never my intention and I know my actions have been misinterpreted.’

Lottie burst out, ‘It’s just, how can you possibly know what it’s like, living the way you do? How can you possibly know, Miss Carson?’

‘I do know, Lottie. I am very aware of how hard things are for much of the population. You know what empathy means? Well, I feel for people in a very acute way. We have many pupils at the school who are in a situation not unlike yours. You may not be aware of it but they are in other classes. By inviting you to our house I didn’t mean to patronize you or emphasize the difference between your life and ours. It never occurred to me. I simply wanted you to meet Violet and perhaps be encouraged by her to train as a teacher. I thought you would get on, and you do.’

‘Yes, I do like Violet. I like all your family, Miss Carson. I can’t explain my attitude, except that I think I was overwhelmed. When you first invited me for tea I imagined you lived in a house a bit better than ours maybe, but somewhere quite small and I would meet your sister and we would all have tea together and chat. I never imagined a house as big as yours with a tennis court and a maid. I was envious, but if my mother taught me anything it was to have pride and she worked so hard while my father was away. And then when he came back he was a different man, not young and strong and cheerful as he had been. My father is only thirty-seven. He’s a young man and he looks about sixty. So I felt angry and jealous and . . .’ She pushed the notes even further towards Miss Carson. ‘I just want to see the Head and arrange to repay the money. There is no question but that I have to leave school and that I’m going to do so straight away.’ She paused and examined Miss Carson’s face closely. ‘Do the other pupils you talked about get money from the school?’

‘The money is from you, isn’t it, Miss Carson? I know a lot of girls who are hard up like us and I never heard of anything like this. So my mother said I could stay on after she came to see you. I never thought anything of it at the time, but now . . .’

‘It is from me, Lottie. You will now feel more angry and patronized than ever, but I beg you not to be. You may want to leave school and now I think you will and nothing I can say will change your mind. But despite this terrible setback I am still optimistic for your future. You have got such character as well as talent that I think you will succeed in whatever you do. But I want you to know that everything I have done has been with the best intentions and I will always be here for you, Lottie, if you need me.’ Miss Carson gently pushed the notes back in Lottie’s direction. ‘Lottie, please keep this for the time being until you are on your feet and independent, which I am sure will be soon.’

‘But there is one thing I do beg of you,’ Miss Carson went on, ‘and that is to go home and think about our suggestion of medical help, to give your poor father the chance of better health. At the very least, think of him.’

Four