But most of all she loved being with Samuel when he came home from boarding school. She would listen, round-eyed, to all his tales…that he was having to learn Latin and Greek, and learn great chunks of the bible off by heart. That they all had to do “prep” after lessons finished, and that the last meal of the day was “supper” at 6.30 and that the food wasn’t very nice – not as good as Cook’s. And that he had to be up very early each morning, how he shared a “Dorm” with seven others and that everyone had to make their own beds. And about the pranks they played on each other and that no talking was allowed after lights-out. He told her about the sports they played, and that he’d been chosen as captain of their Junior House cricket team. To Alice, it was a dream fantasy world and she devoured everything Samuel was saying in his gentle, well-modulated voice as if she could catch some of it for herself.
And soon, they’d begun to write letters to each other, Alice using her careful, rounded handwriting to tell him about the goings-on in the nursery, and of her day at school. And Sam would write back, almost at once, always addressing his letters to the house in Clifton.
Then, a few weeks after Alice’s tenth birthday, when her father’s ship had just docked, they received terrible news.
Before his feet had even touched the ground, Alice’s father, drunk as a lord, had fallen overboard, crushing his arm badly against the side of the vessel. He was rushed to hospital but died a week later from an infection.
That had been seven weeks ago, and one day, Helena said –
‘Why not come and settle here with us, Ada? It would be more convenient for you than renting your home… Professor Carmichael and I have discussed it and we would love to have you living-in. The children adore you – and they adore Alice – so it would be good for all of us, wouldn’t it?’ She paused. ‘And with the housing shortage still so dreadful after the War, it would mean your place would be available for others.’
That point clinched it for Ada as she thought about it. Although it was true that it was just the girls – Rose and Margaret, to take care of during term time – since David and John had joined Sam at his boarding school – Ada was always happy to do general housework if required, and would sometimes help Betty do the vegetables – especially if the Carmichaels were entertaining. And if she and Alice did come to live here permanently, then they would be on hand at night time when the professor and his wife had to go out. There often seemed to be dinner engagements and various social occasions for them to attend. And for her own part, it would be a relief to Ada that she and her daughter were to be well-housed and well-fed, and that she no longer had the responsibility of finding the money for rent and household bills.
So Ada gave notice to the landlord of their furnished accommodation, and at the end of the month she and Alice packed their belongings into two large suitcases and a couple of bags. And watched by groups of curious neighbours, they shut the front door behind them and got into the car which had arrived to take them away from that part of their lives for ever.
Now, having in no uncertain terms told Lizzie to buzz off, Alice remained on the edge of the bed for a while, thinking. Then she lay right down, resting her head on one of the soft pillows. The wide mattress felt firm and comfortable under her back, and it didn’t have any creaky springs. Alice had thought that all beds creaked and groaned when you moved.
Their accommodation was on the second floor of the house, and it comprised this large room, a small sitting room next door, and at the very end of the long landing was their bathroom. Imagine – a lavatory that wasn’t outside in the back yard! And with a long bath you could lie back in instead of a hip bath that forced you to hug your knees!
Alice smiled to herself, and wriggled down further on the bed, wishing that it was night time so that she could get right under the pristine sheets and thick, white cotton counterpane, and dream some wonderful dreams. Except she didn’t need to dream now, because reality was wonderful enough.
Dear Samuel
Isn’t it funny that I always put “Dear Samuel” when I start my letters, instead of “Dear Sam” – which is what I’ve always called you.
Well, we have been here for four weeks and my mother and I have settled in very well. I must say it is lovely not to be living in Hotwells, though of course I still go to school there. But I don’t mind. I wish I was at your school. Do you think I could disguise myself as a boy?
We have gone back to see our neighbours twice since we left because my mother is worried that the children don’t have enough to eat, and the youngest baby is poorly again. So on our way down the town we bought bread and buns and oranges for them. They were all very pleased to see us.
Rose and Margaret had a fight the other afternoon you will be sorry to learn. It took my mother ages to get the plasticine out of their hair. It hurt them and made them cry and she said it was their own fault and they shouldn’t be so silly next time. My mother can be a hard woman!
I think I told you the other day that Lizzie hates me. Do you know why that could be? She’s always looking at me in a funny way and stares me out. Rather uncomfortable!
I’m sorry you only have bread and butter and marmalade for tea. Shall I ask Cook to send you a food parcel for a midnight feast? Ha Ha.
Have you seen the twins yet? Do they like it at your school?
I must tell you something. Your parents were going out somewhere special last week and I hid upstairs on the landing and spied them just as they were leaving. Your mother was wearing a long red gown and she had a diamond clip – or perhaps it was a tiara – in her hair. It sparkled like anything and she looked like a queen, or a princess. And Professor Carmichael was in full evening dress. They looked like two film stars. And then – help, help!!! They suddenly looked up and saw me watching them and they smiled and gave me a little wave. I was so embarrassed1!!!
The summer holidays will soon be here again, thank goodness, and I can’t wait for you all to come home again.
I hope you are well. My mother and I are both well.
Best wishes, Alice.
Dear Alice
Thank you for your letter. I am sorry I haven’t replied sooner but we’ve been having end of term exams and I’ve been doing a lot of revising. I think I have done OK – here’s hoping!
I was not surprised to hear about the girls scrapping. They’ve always done it. But the thought of them sticking themselves up with plasticine made me laugh.
I have spotted John and David in the far distance but we don’t mix at all. Anyway, I shall see enough of them in the holidays, thank you very much!
Our main production this year was Midsummer Night’s Dream. I elected to help with scenery and lighting. It was very good. Have you ever seen it?
It will soon be Speech Day and the end of term service for the whole school. There’s always a bishop or some other big fish present, but I haven’t heard who the lucky person is this time.
Then there is the LAST SUPPER. Note the capital letters! It’s always on the last Saturday before we come home. The kitchen staff make an unusual effort on this occasion, and the menu will be put up on the notice board soon. It’s usually something like roast lamb or chicken and there are always lovely puddings. Nearly as good as Cook’s – but not quite!
By the way I’m sorry about Lizzie staring you out. Very uncomfortable, I agree. But did you know she’s an orphan, living in Muller’s Orphanage? Have you heard of George Muller? I will tell you about him when I come home. I believe the orphanage is a very nice place, but it can’t be as good as being at home with a family, can it?
I must close now because it will soon be lights-out.
Give my best wishes to your mother.
Kind regards, Sam.
PS. I nearly forgot to mention…our House won the cricket tournament outright! I was lifted up on some shoulders, and the team did a victory