“Pete and Billy said it once. I know it’s wrong but I don’t want to go to bloody school.” Maggie turned, hand on hips, facing her mother. “I want to stay home with you. I can help here. You said I was good at home.”
“You have to go to school or the village bobby will be upset with us, don’t you see? And as for Pete and Billy, well they shouldn’t use bad language in front of you. I will speak to Betty about that. Now, come inside, we’ll clean you up and I will take you back.”
Maggie reluctantly complied. She didn’t want to be in trouble with the bobby and she didn’t want her parents to be in trouble either. She had enjoyed talking to Sally before school but when the time came to walk inside the school hall she had bolted for home.
Iris walked Maggie back to school and discreetly spoke to her teacher. There was only one desk available and that was in the front row right under the teacher’s nose. How lucky was that? Iris hurried back home, annoyed but eager to enjoy what time she had left on her own.
Maggie and Sally bonded straight away through the most bizarre turn of events. While the teacher was writing his name on the blackboard, Maggie had tilted her chair backwards and leaned on Sally’s desk behind for support.
“What are you doing?” whispered Sally. “Get off my desk.”
“Can I borrow a pencil?”
“No, get off my desk or I’ll bash you with my ruler.”
“Go on then, I dare you.”
Sally hit Maggie over the head but this caused her old brittle wooden ruler to smash in three pieces. Sally’s face reddened in shock and those who saw what had happened, burst into laughter. Maggie joined in.
“Sally Vinter and Margaret Harris,” said Mr Turk quite sternly as he turned around from the blackboard, “come here please.” He put down the chalk and a hush descended over the classroom. “Quite a first day, wouldn’t you say?”
All eyes were on the girls who looked a picture of guilt as they stood shoulder to shoulder and looked at their teacher. He was relatively short and Sally thought he was very big around the tummy. Her father said it was rude to call people fat but all of a sudden she had the urge to giggle because when she looked down slightly she saw that his tummy was covered in fine white dust from when he had turned around and his tummy had rubbed off some of the chalk from the blackboard.
“You will please go and stand in separate corners of the classroom with your backs to the class in silence for the next ten minutes, is that understood?”
“Yes, Mr Turk,” they both muttered.
“Maggie,” said Maggie. “My name is Maggie, not Margaret.”
“Very well, Maggie it is. Now off you go.” He pointed to the far corners. The girls walked away, not really understanding how long ten minutes would be.
Their friendship was strangely set up for life from that day onwards.
When William arrived home that afternoon Iris told him of the morning’s events. They decided to make no reference to it because Maggie seemed much happier now. Maggie told them both over supper that she and Sally had decided to sit together in class.
“We’re also going to share my ruler because Sally broke hers,” she said, smiling innocently. She shrugged. “School doesn’t seem so bad. I might go tomorrow.”
Chapter Ten
The mornings and evenings started to become darker and colder as the summer gradually turned to autumn.
“Good morning, Mrs Sutton,” said Pete and Billy together as Mrs Sutton stood at the Manor’s kitchen door wiping her soapy hands on an extremely white tea towel.
She eyed the boys closely with their red rosy cheeks and beaming smiles. “Morning boys,” she said, “what can I do for you today?”
“Well, it’s rather what we can do for you, Mrs Sutton,” said Pete enthusiastically.
“And what may that be?” she asked, noticing a small puddle forming behind the boys on the doorstep. She crossed her arms and eyed the twins suspiciously.
“Hey presto,” exclaimed Billy, as they brought their arms round from their backs and held out two decent sized rainbow trout strung up on fishing line.
“Well,” marvelled Mrs Sutton, “Rainbow trout, the Squire’s favourite. Where did you get these from boys?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips.
“From Purchets stream the other side of the village, Mrs Sutton,” said Billy. “Aren’t they grand? And they are yours for only two shillings each.”
“Are they now?” she laughed. “Two shillings? I’ll pay you one shilling each or not at all you cheeky boys.”
The boys looked at one another and shrugged in agreement.
“Not bad for a morning’s work,” said Pete to Billy as they ran along Honeysuckle Lane towards home.
“That’s a good profit too,” said Billy. “I knew she’d knock us down but I thought it would be lower than a shilling a piece.”
“Not a word to Mum or she’ll go mad,” said Pete. “Let’s get that other fish.”
“Hello Mum,” they said together as they entered the kitchen. “Look what we’ve brought for tea.” They held up another large rainbow trout.
“Goodness, that’s a beauty,” said Betty, “We’ll have this tonight with some vegetables. Where did you get it from?”
“Purchets,” said Pete.
“Purchets?” repeated Betty, as she looked from one son to the other. “That’s good work boys, really good.” Betty stood thinking for a while then repeated again, “Purchets?”
“Yes Mum,” said Billy.
Out the corner of her eye, Betty saw Billy slightly nudge Pete. “Oh my goodness,” exclaimed Betty, raising her hands in the air. “You got them out of the Squire’s lake didn’t you?”
“Mum, really,” protested Pete, a hurt look on his face.
Betty stood with her hands on her hips just staring at her boys, her eyebrows raised. There was no need for any words on an occasion such as this as Betty’s eyebrows did the talking for her.
“Okay Mum, yes from the Squire’s lake. It’s full of them and no one saw us and we saw no harm in it,” said Pete. “It’s only one fish.”
“Bye Mum, gotta go,” said Billy, as both boys flew out of the kitchen door. If only she knew the whole story!
Chapter Eleven
Mrs Sutton had been meticulously planning for months to make Christmas 1941 a special time at Primrose Farm Estate. This year would mark her fortieth year of organising the festivities for the Squire and all the staff and she still delighted in making little changes each year.
She was a stickler for detail and perfection and it was all those details that made the event so memorable. At sixty-five she still thrived on running the Manor like clockwork. She was small in stature and dwarfed by the Squire whom admired and respected both Mr and Mrs Sutton. He was grateful for their hard work and above all, their companionship.
She had mastered the art of calligraphy as a young girl and in October she spent two weeks carefully writing invitations to all the families of Primrose Estate. By the beginning of November she had delivered each one of these. Of course, official invitations were unnecessary, as every family knew they were invited, but Mrs Sutton liked things done properly. More often than not, the invitation would take pride of place on mantle pieces awaiting Christmas Eve.
The Squire allowed Mrs Sutton to call upon three members of staff to help with the heavier manual preparations. This particular year she called upon Mr