Alice hadn’t been able to prevent her eyebrows from rising. ‘I’m not sure that’s right,’ she said as steadily as she could. ‘It could be a symptom of rickets. Do you know what that is?’
‘Oh, that.’ The mother paused. ‘Yes, me granddad’s sister had it, made her short as anything. I hope that isn’t what Frankie’s got, poor little mite.’ She turned to shoo away the girl. ‘What can we do for him, Nurse? It’s horrible to see those what’s got the bandy legs. The other kids won’t half take the mick. I don’t want that.’
Alice had sighed. The textbook answer would be: keep him outside in the sunlight as much as possible, without putting weight on his legs. There was as much chance of that as teaching him to fly, as there was scarcely room to swing a cat between the rows of the terrace, and the back yard stank from the privy shared between all the houses. Then she should suggest improving the child’s vitamin intake with bone soups, fresh pasteurised milk and green vegetables, especially spinach. That was unlikely to happen either.
This was an occasion to resort to the authorities. Taking a deep breath, Alice plunged in. ‘In that case,’ she said, ‘I strongly recommend you take Frankie to the Infant Welfare Clinic and they will be able to refer you for assistance. He needs a special diet while there is still time. Don’t delay, but don’t despair either. We can help his bones to grow more normally, but not on what he’s eating at the moment.’
Frankie’s mother had balked at that but then she had nodded. ‘All right. I don’t hold with going to the welfare for nothing, but if it’s his only chance …’
‘It’s a very good chance,’ Alice had answered immediately, determined to drive the point home. And, she thought to herself, I’m going to contact the Sanitary Inspector for once. There’s overcrowding and filthy living conditions and then there’s this. Whoever is renting this out as a family home needs reporting.
‘Ah yes. I heard about that,’ Fiona said now. ‘Well done.’ The superintendent clasped her hands together on her desk and went on: ‘St Benedict’s are concerned about instilling good habits of hygiene in their pupils. Sadly we can’t assume that parents have the time or knowledge to teach the children as well as might be desired.’ She looked Alice directly in the eye. ‘You’ll already have noticed that the homes around here have widely different facilities available. Some have indoor bathrooms with running water. Some make do with a tin bath hung on the scullery door and an outside toilet but have running water indoors nonetheless. Some don’t even have that. As I believe you saw for yourself only the other day.’ She paused and sighed. ‘When you have a family consisting of several generations under one small roof, teaching each child how best to brush their teeth is seldom a priority. And very few of them can afford a trip to the dentist.’
‘No, I suppose not,’ said Alice.
‘That’s where we come in,’ Fiona announced. ‘Or, more precisely, you, Alice, if you are willing to take on this service.’
‘Me?’ Alice was taken aback. ‘What would I have to do? I’m not sure … I mean, I know how to clean my teeth, but I’m not an expert or anything …’
‘No, no, I’m not expecting you to be,’ Fiona said reassuringly. ‘We don’t want a stranger scaring the little ones. We want someone who is good with children and I’ve noticed that you are. Word gets around, you see. So, what they’d like you to do is go into the school and show the children how to do it, maybe one class at a time, so that you can keep a good eye on how well they’re doing. They’ll bring in their own toothbrushes – or the school might see to it quietly that they all have one. I’m going to approach a local wholesaler to ask if they can let us have toothpaste or toothpowder cheaply or even for free, as a goodwill gesture. Some families make their own toothpowder, but you can’t guarantee what’s in it half the time.’
‘I see,’ said Alice, shuddering inwardly, and realising yet again how lucky she’d been in her upbringing in this small but vital matter – always having a new toothbrush and constant supplies of proper toothpaste.
‘Excellent,’ said Fiona briskly. ‘Well, no time like the present. They’re expecting you this afternoon.’
‘This afternoon?’ Alice echoed in surprise.
‘Yes indeed. Leave it much longer and the children will be on their school holidays. We need to get good habits well ingrained before that. Of course the toothpaste won’t have arrived from the company, but you can demonstrate what to do so they know in advance.’
‘Oh,’ said Alice, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Really, there wasn’t much to say when you were swept up in Fiona’s efficient whirlwind.
‘That gives you a couple of hours to think about what you’ll say and to cycle over there. Ask for Miss Phipps. Best take your own brush with you, so you can show them exactly what you mean.’ Fiona beamed. ‘And you can tell me all about it later,’ she added, standing as she did so. The interview was evidently over.
St Benedict’s was a big Victorian building with a playground at the front, large windows overlooking the entrance and the main road beyond. Alice could hear the hum of children’s voices as she approached, swinging her legs off the boneshaker bike which she’d now got used to, and sliding it into a purpose-built bike rack to the side of the yard.
Before she could even look for a bell or doorknocker, a woman came out to greet her. ‘You must be Nurse Lake! Do come in,’ she said, in a voice Alice could easily believe would command a room of six-year-olds. ‘I’m Janet Phipps.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Alice, shaking the woman’s hand, and noting that she was older than her by a few years but not as old as Fiona. She wore horn-rimmed glasses and had a smiling, red-cheeked face, and was dressed very neatly in a slim cotton skirt and lemon twinset. She wore absolutely no jewellery, and Alice wondered if that was because it would be too easy to snag on little children’s clothing or hair.
Janet Phipps led her into the building, with its distinctive school smell, and into a classroom full of small faces all turned in curiosity towards the door. ‘Our youngest class,’ Janet explained. ‘As they go home earliest we thought it best you started with them. Now, say good afternoon to Nurse Lake.’
‘Good afternoon, Nurse Lake,’ most of them chanted, although a few looked confused, apprehensive or sullen. One little boy in an unravelling grey jumper was concentrating too hard on picking his nose to say anything, and Janet Phipps gently admonished him while bringing Alice to the front of the class.
‘Now, did we all remember to bring our toothbrushes?’ the teacher asked. ‘Here’s mine.’ She brought a red-handled one out from her skirt pocket. ‘Wave them in the air if you remembered.’
‘Please, Miss, I ain’t got one,’ said a tiny girl with fair ringlets, sitting directly in front of the boy with the unravelling jumper.
‘My gran says they’re bad for you,’ added the girl sitting beside her, with a mutinous face.
Janet Phipps shook her head. ‘Those of you who don’t have one yet, just watch and try to remember what Nurse Lake says. We’ll make sure you all have them when she comes next and you can show her what you’ve learnt. Yes, Pauline, even you. You want to have nice white teeth when you grow up, don’t you?’ Turning to Alice she muttered, ‘The child’s gran hasn’t got a tooth in her head, but that’s all right as she mostly drinks gin. However …’
Alice tried not to show her surprise, and realised that she might get on very well with Janet Phipps in the future. But now, she concentrated her attention on the job in hand. Taking out her own brush, she smiled at the classroom of young faces, and began.
‘That was harder than I thought,’ Alice confessed later, having talked to three separate classes one after the other. ‘It’s not so much showing them what to do: that’s simple and they’re keen to