She nodded, the rain falling down from the dark sky.
‘We have to meet less often –’
‘No!’ she shouted, her arms wrapping around him, her body pressing against his. He was aware of her scent and passion, aware that he wanted her more than anything.
‘Sweetheart, you know as well as I do that we can’t hide our feelings,’ he said quietly, his hands moving into her hair and turning her face up to his.
Slowly he kissed her cheeks, her closed eyelids, her mouth, his excitement rising, their bodies moulded into each other. He thought, for a drowsy instant, that he was drowning.
Suddenly he drew away. ‘Alice, we have to be more careful. We’ll give ourselves away. Someone will see us if we don’t hold back a bit.’
‘I can’t live without you.’
‘We’ll meet up every Sunday night. Every Sunday, here at the viaduct. If one of us can’t get away, we’ll meet at the railings at Netherlands after lights out.’ He kissed the tips of her fingers. ‘Alice, we have to be clever and get through this. We have to be cunning for another two years. Then we’re free. You understand, don’t you? You can do what I ask, can’t you, sweetheart? Can’t you?’
Her heart was pumping fast, her head spinning. How many Sundays were there in two years? Could she live through them? But what was the choice? If she was careless she lost Victor. And if she lost Victor, she lost everything.
Her hand went up to his face and cupped his cheek.
‘I love you,’ she said earnestly. ‘The time will pass quickly, Victor, won’t it? It will, won’t it?’
In the courtyard of Netherland Evan Thomas lit a cigarette and then carefully blew out the match. He sniffed the air and then brushed some nonexistent fluff off his shoulder. Summer nights – he usually hated them. Too hot to sleep, too hot to work. But not too hot to walk … His full lips curled into a satisfied smile and he inhaled deeply.
Women were all the same. They could never keep their heads. He slipped back into the shadows and watched as Alice ran noiselessly back into the home. Now where had she been? he wondered. She had obviously sneaked out, but to where? And why?
The Welshman smiled again, truly happy. Alice Rimmer had caused him some grief, but perhaps he would soon be able to repay the compliment. All he had to do was to watch her and find out what she was up to, then he could expose her … She had been so smug, so certain of her standing with Clare Lees. She had usurped him good and proper. But that was all about to change. When their beloved principal learned that her protégée was not quite as perfect as she seemed … Oh yes, Evan could imagine the fracas which would follow. Clare would feel betrayed and would be sure to punish Alice. Off the pedestal the girl would go, and back on would go Evan.
How sad. But there you were, Evan told himself, he had a duty to do. Alice Rimmer had defied the home’s rules of conduct; shown her true colours. She was deceitful; certainly not the kind of woman to look after children.
He whistled between his teeth. He was tempted to tell Clare immediately, but thought it better to bide his time. After all, what had he to tell her? Only that Alice Rimmer sneaked out at night. If he went now, it was simply his word against the girl’s. And Clare liked Alice Rimmer. God forbid, Clare might even take her side. But if he waited and could find out why Alice went out – and if he could give Clare Lees proof …
Yes, that was what was needed. Proof … Evan sighed. The rain had stopped and the night was placid again. Like himself. Slowly he unlocked the wrought-iron gates and passed through them onto the street outside. It looked commonplace to him.
He was thankful that it looked so tempting to Alice Rimmer.
The governors of Netherlands were exasperated with Clare Lees – and not for the first time. She was too much of an authoritarian, they said. Times had changed, there was no need for Victorian values any more. They had to hand it her, though; she had done sterling work at Netherlands, but her regime was outdated.
They told her so. She told them that she was preparing someone – one of the orphans – to take over from her in a few years’ time. This was news.
The Reverend Mr Grantley helped himself to three more biscuits and leaned his head towards Mrs Tomkinson, wife of Albert Tomkinson, wealthiest man in Salford. She moved away from the dyed head looming towards her and smiled stiffly.
‘A new brush always sweeps clean,’ she said.
Mr Grantley nodded and swallowed his second custard cream. Beside him sat the local MP, Sir Henry Hollis, irritable as a cornered wolf. The vicar addressed him.
‘I think –’
‘What’s that?’ Sir Henry said, leaning towards Mr Grantley, his thin face pinched with irritation.
‘Mrs Tomkinson was talking about Alice Rimmer, the young lady who might take over from Miss Lees.’
‘When?’
The clergyman sighed. ‘In a few years. Miss Lees has just been telling us about it.’
‘I didn’t hear anything about some foreigner.’
The vicar paused in his chewing and looked at the old man. ‘Which foreigner?’
‘This one you’re bloody talking about, Grantley!’ he snapped. ‘Don’t horse me about, I’m not a man to mess with.’
Mrs Tomkinson leaned across the vicar, the feather on her hat brushing crumbs off his biscuit.
‘We weren’t talking about a foreigner, Henry. We were talking about the young lady who is going to take over from Miss Lees.’
‘I don’t like foreigners!’ Sir Henry went on. ‘You can never understand a thing they say.’
Mr Grantley smiled obsequiously. ‘I don’t think –’
‘You’re right there,’ Sir Henry replied, ‘You never did think much. I could never see why you were made a governor here anyway.’
Mrs Tomkinson leaned further towards the old man, the vicar forced back into his seat.
‘I think it’s a good idea to train someone new for the position. We need new blood. Besides, the girl is an orphan; has been here since she was a child. From what I’ve heard, she seems admirably suited.’
The girl was at that moment waiting outside. Clare Lees had primed Alice carefully and was determined that her charge would impress the governors. It would reflect well on her, and besides, if Alice Rimmer succeeded to her job, Clare would never have to relinquish her status at Netherlands entirely.
Nervously, she went out to bring Alice before her inquisitors.
‘You know what to say, don’t you?’
Alice nodded. She was dressed in a navy suit, her full dark hair pulled back. The remarkable face was composed. Thank God, Clare thought, that its beauty had toned down – now that the wildness was gone.
‘I know what to say,’ Alice replied evenly.
‘I’m relying on you,’ Clare responded. ‘This is the chance of a lifetime, Alice. Do us both proud.’
Breathing in deeply, Clare ushered Alice before the governors. It was another sweltering day, Mrs Tomkinson looking like a broiled chicken under her feathered hat, Mr Grantley still chewing on his last biscuit. As for the old man beside him, Sir Henry seemed as dry and hard as a rock bun.
‘Sit down, young lady,’ he said, watching as Alice did so. ‘We’ve heard a lot