they’ll put you in a Home. How’ll you like that?’
‘I won’t live in a Home,’ said Kizzy.
‘Where’ll you live then?’ taunted Prue.
‘I shall live by myself.’
‘Don’t be soft. Anyway, your caravan’s burnt.’
Kizzy’s chin came up. ‘Sir Admiral’s going to make me a little wagon, just for my own.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘He is.’
‘I don’t believe it.’
‘He is. He is!’ Admiral Twiss heard that child’s cry in his study. ‘He is!’ and he got up.
‘Then he’s barmy.’ The Admiral was in time to see Prudence and Kizzy fly at one another, kicking and spitting and biting in fury until Peters took each of them by the back of
the neck and shook them apart.
Mrs Cuthbert came up to complain and met the Admiral on the drive. ‘An absolute little savage,’ she shrilled. ‘Prudence came home black and blue with a huge
scratch on her cheek.’
‘You should see the scratch on Kizzy’s,’ said the Admiral.
Peters was more severe. ‘That’s no way to behave,’ he told Kizzy. ‘Even however horrid she is.’
‘I’ll always do it to anyone horrid,’ declared Kizzy.
‘None of your lip, saucepot; while you’re at Amberhurst you’ll behave. If you come from Amberhurst you’ll behave, or you’ll disgrace us at the
meeting.’
Kizzy stared at him. So it was true: there was to be a meeting. She felt suddenly cold.
Admiral Twiss was in his workshop putting the last touches on the miniature tug, the Elsie May , when Kizzy appeared. She watched, her head almost level with the high
workshop table, as his long clever fingers fitted a cage of brass over the little starboard light. ‘Just in case she collides with anything,’ he explained, and said, ‘When I tried
her out on the lake one of the swans attacked her. Can’t protect the searchlight though; it must swivel as she changes direction.’ No one but the Admiral, thought Kizzy, could make a
tiny searchlight that swivelled. She took a deep breath.
‘Will you make a wagon for me?’
The Admiral gave her a shrewd glance from under his eyebrows, then said, ‘I only make models.’
‘Will you – buy me a wagon?’
‘When you are eighteen.’ His fingers did not falter as he worked over the light and, without any unnecessary questions, he added, ‘They wouldn’t let you live in one until
you are eighteen. Then they couldn’t stop you.’
‘Can’t I live with you?’
He shook his head. ‘They wouldn’t let us, Kiz.’
‘Why not?’
‘We haven’t a woman here.’
‘Why do you need a woman when you have me? I looked after Gran.’
‘I know you did.’
‘I could sell bunches of flowers, and pegs if you would make them for me; that could pay for me if you haven’t enough money.’
The Admiral stopped fitting the cage, took Kizzy’s hand and led her into the library; he sat down in his chair and drew her to stand against his knee. ‘At this meeting, Kiz, they will
decide that Amberhurst House isn’t a fit place for a little girl and we cannot argue.’
Kizzy did argue.
‘A little girl lived here once, Clem says so.’
‘This is a girl’s room,’ Clem had said, looking round Kizzy’s bedroom.
‘Is it?’ Again Kizzy had not enough experience of rooms to know.
‘Yes, look at it.’ And certainly the white bed, the miniature dressing table, the small white rocking chair, blue carpet, muslin curtains and apple blossom paper looked like a
girl’s. ‘I thought they only had boys,’ Clem had said, ‘but there must have been a girl.’
‘Long long ago,’ Admiral Twiss said now and added, ‘There’s a painting of her in the drawing room.’
They went together into the big disused drawing room with its pale green panelled walls and stiff brocade curtains; the chairs and sofas had dust sheets over them but Kizzy could see small
gilded tables, faint colours of embroidered carpets, a mirror framed in gold. Over the fireplace was a life-size painting of a little girl, much
‘I won’t live in a Home,’ said Kizzy.
‘Where’ll you live then?’ taunted Prue.
‘I shall live by myself.’
‘Don’t be soft. Anyway, your caravan’s burnt.’
Kizzy’s chin came up. ‘Sir Admiral’s going to make me a little wagon, just for my own.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘He is.’
‘I don’t believe it.’
‘He is. He is!’ Admiral Twiss heard that child’s cry in his study. ‘He is!’ and he got up.
‘Then he’s barmy.’ The Admiral was in time to see Prudence and Kizzy fly at one another, kicking and spitting and biting in fury until Peters took each of them by the back of
the neck and shook them apart.
Mrs Cuthbert came up to complain and met the Admiral on the drive. ‘An absolute little savage,’ she shrilled. ‘Prudence came home black and blue with a huge
scratch on her cheek.’
‘You should see the scratch on Kizzy’s,’ said the Admiral.
Peters was more severe. ‘That’s no way to behave,’ he told Kizzy. ‘Even however horrid she is.’
‘I’ll always do it to anyone horrid,’ declared Kizzy.
‘None of your lip, saucepot; while you’re at Amberhurst you’ll behave. If you come from Amberhurst you’ll behave, or you’ll disgrace us at the
meeting.’
Kizzy stared at him. So it was true: there was to be a meeting. She felt suddenly cold.
Admiral Twiss was in his workshop putting the last touches on the miniature tug, the Elsie May , when Kizzy appeared. She watched, her head almost level with the high
workshop table, as his long clever fingers fitted a cage of brass over the little starboard light. ‘Just in case she collides with anything,’ he explained, and said, ‘When I tried
her out on the lake one of the swans attacked her. Can’t protect the searchlight though; it must swivel as she changes direction.’ No one but the Admiral, thought Kizzy, could make a
tiny searchlight that swivelled. She took a deep breath.
‘Will you make a wagon for me?’
The Admiral gave her a shrewd glance from under his eyebrows, then said, ‘I only make models.’
‘Will you – buy me a wagon?’
‘When you are eighteen.’ His fingers did not falter as he worked over the light and, without any unnecessary questions, he added, ‘They wouldn’t let you live in one until
you are eighteen. Then they couldn’t stop you.’
‘Can’t I live with you?’
He shook his head. ‘They wouldn’t let us, Kiz.’
‘Why not?’
‘We haven’t a woman here.’
‘Why do you need a woman when you have me? I looked after Gran.’
‘I know you did.’
‘I could sell bunches of flowers, and pegs if you would make them for me; that could pay for me if you haven’t enough money.’
The Admiral stopped fitting the cage, took Kizzy’s hand and led her into the library; he sat down in his chair and drew her to stand against his knee. ‘At this meeting, Kiz, they will
decide that Amberhurst House isn’t a fit place for a little girl and we cannot argue.’
Kizzy did argue.
‘A little girl lived here once, Clem says so.’
‘This is a girl’s room,’ Clem had said, looking round Kizzy’s bedroom.
‘Is it?’ Again Kizzy had not enough experience of rooms to know.
‘Yes, look at it.’ And certainly the white bed, the miniature dressing table, the small white rocking chair, blue carpet, muslin curtains and apple blossom paper looked like a
girl’s. ‘I thought they only had boys,’ Clem had said, ‘but there must have been a girl.’
‘Long long ago,’ Admiral Twiss said now and added, ‘There’s a painting of her in the drawing room.’
They went together into the big disused drawing room with its pale green panelled walls and stiff brocade curtains; the chairs and sofas had dust sheets over them but Kizzy could see small
gilded tables, faint colours of embroidered carpets, a mirror framed in gold. Over the fireplace was a life-size painting of a little girl, much
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