running away. I felt mean, leaving him.’
‘Why was that?’
‘He looked sad. I wanted to … to make him smile.’
‘Did you, now?’ Henry gave her a curious glance. ‘You’re quite something, Dorothea, do you know that?’
‘Is … is that good?’
‘Yes. Very good. Very good indeed.’
‘I … I think you’re
something
, too, Henry.’ She felt it a great cheek using his name so freely but he didn’t seem to mind.
‘My word! You certainly know how to make a chap blush!’ He laughed, looked rather bashful, but then rubbed his hands together briskly. ‘We should get going, before we catch our deaths. If Bernadette will oblige….’
Bernadette did oblige. In the blink of an eye, it seemed, the Daimler was juddering up the long driveway between the tall evergreens . Huddled in Henry’s dust coat, Dorothea couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling inside. Her escape was over. The big house was waiting to claim her once again.
Uncle Albert put in an appearance. Dorothea had never seen him in the nursery before. He did not look best pleased.
They left her alone with him. She felt all trembly, as if her legs might give way at any moment. It didn’t help that she was still giddy from Nanny’s cuffs and blows. Not that she was a stranger to such treatment – Mrs Browning was none too gentle – but Nanny seemed to take a particular pride in that aspect of her work. Dorothea didnot like to imagine what Uncle Albert would have in store for her. She wished she had run along that endless road as far as her legs would have carried her. She might have been curled in a ditch, starving, by now but anything would be better than this.
‘Why did you go off like that?’ Uncle Albert’s voice was an angry growl. ‘Eloise – your aunt – is very cross. Very cross indeed.’
Dorothea stood frozen, couldn’t speak a word.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ he murmured after a pause. ‘I don’t know what to do for the best.’ His big, thick fingers tapped impatiently on the table but he wasn’t looking at her, which was a blessing. ‘Ellie would prefer it if you were sent away, but … well … I don’t like the idea of … of
those
places.’ He turned to look at her. ‘Don’t you like it here, eh? Eh? Is that why you ran away?’
Dorothea quailed. His fierce eyes seemed to burn into her. But it was important to tell him the truth. ‘Please, uncle, I just want to go home.’
‘And where is home? Where did you live before you came here?’
‘In … in Stepnall Street.’
‘Stepnall Street?’
‘It’s in London.’
‘Big place, London.’
‘There’s a house, a court, cobbles….’ She tried to put her thoughts in order. ‘There’s a road nearby where the trams run. Mickey likes to race the trams.’
‘And who is Mickey?’
‘Mickey is….’ Who exactly
was
Mickey? She’d thought of him as a sort of big brother, but he wasn’t really her brother. He belonged to Mrs Browning. But who was Mrs Browning? Papa had called her
the landlady
but he gave a strange sort of laugh when he said it, as if it was some sort of joke. Their room, though,
was
Mrs Browning’s, she’d been there first. Dorothea found herself wondering who Mickey’s papa was, and Flossie’s. She’d never thought about it before.
But it wasn’t important. All that mattered was her own papa. ‘Please, uncle, can’t you find him? Can’t you find my papa?’
‘It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack, child. He could beanywhere. Anywhere.’ Her uncle turned away, crossed to the window. His broad shoulders seemed to blot out the light, as if a shadow had fallen across the day room. But Dorothea drew comfort from his words which seemed to suggest that he
had
made an effort to find her papa even if the search had been, up to now, fruitless. She wanted to tell him to go on looking, not to give up. It was more important than anything.
But at that moment he turned to face her and the words died in her
‘Why was that?’
‘He looked sad. I wanted to … to make him smile.’
‘Did you, now?’ Henry gave her a curious glance. ‘You’re quite something, Dorothea, do you know that?’
‘Is … is that good?’
‘Yes. Very good. Very good indeed.’
‘I … I think you’re
something
, too, Henry.’ She felt it a great cheek using his name so freely but he didn’t seem to mind.
‘My word! You certainly know how to make a chap blush!’ He laughed, looked rather bashful, but then rubbed his hands together briskly. ‘We should get going, before we catch our deaths. If Bernadette will oblige….’
Bernadette did oblige. In the blink of an eye, it seemed, the Daimler was juddering up the long driveway between the tall evergreens . Huddled in Henry’s dust coat, Dorothea couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling inside. Her escape was over. The big house was waiting to claim her once again.
Uncle Albert put in an appearance. Dorothea had never seen him in the nursery before. He did not look best pleased.
They left her alone with him. She felt all trembly, as if her legs might give way at any moment. It didn’t help that she was still giddy from Nanny’s cuffs and blows. Not that she was a stranger to such treatment – Mrs Browning was none too gentle – but Nanny seemed to take a particular pride in that aspect of her work. Dorothea didnot like to imagine what Uncle Albert would have in store for her. She wished she had run along that endless road as far as her legs would have carried her. She might have been curled in a ditch, starving, by now but anything would be better than this.
‘Why did you go off like that?’ Uncle Albert’s voice was an angry growl. ‘Eloise – your aunt – is very cross. Very cross indeed.’
Dorothea stood frozen, couldn’t speak a word.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ he murmured after a pause. ‘I don’t know what to do for the best.’ His big, thick fingers tapped impatiently on the table but he wasn’t looking at her, which was a blessing. ‘Ellie would prefer it if you were sent away, but … well … I don’t like the idea of … of
those
places.’ He turned to look at her. ‘Don’t you like it here, eh? Eh? Is that why you ran away?’
Dorothea quailed. His fierce eyes seemed to burn into her. But it was important to tell him the truth. ‘Please, uncle, I just want to go home.’
‘And where is home? Where did you live before you came here?’
‘In … in Stepnall Street.’
‘Stepnall Street?’
‘It’s in London.’
‘Big place, London.’
‘There’s a house, a court, cobbles….’ She tried to put her thoughts in order. ‘There’s a road nearby where the trams run. Mickey likes to race the trams.’
‘And who is Mickey?’
‘Mickey is….’ Who exactly
was
Mickey? She’d thought of him as a sort of big brother, but he wasn’t really her brother. He belonged to Mrs Browning. But who was Mrs Browning? Papa had called her
the landlady
but he gave a strange sort of laugh when he said it, as if it was some sort of joke. Their room, though,
was
Mrs Browning’s, she’d been there first. Dorothea found herself wondering who Mickey’s papa was, and Flossie’s. She’d never thought about it before.
But it wasn’t important. All that mattered was her own papa. ‘Please, uncle, can’t you find him? Can’t you find my papa?’
‘It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack, child. He could beanywhere. Anywhere.’ Her uncle turned away, crossed to the window. His broad shoulders seemed to blot out the light, as if a shadow had fallen across the day room. But Dorothea drew comfort from his words which seemed to suggest that he
had
made an effort to find her papa even if the search had been, up to now, fruitless. She wanted to tell him to go on looking, not to give up. It was more important than anything.
But at that moment he turned to face her and the words died in her
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