Tom All-Alone's by Lynn Shepherd

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    â€˜There,’ said Miss Darby brightly, ‘that’s much better, Caroline. You’re almost presentable for once. Why don’t you take Hester upstairs and show her your room?’ adding in an undertone to me that the chamber was as much in need of attention as its owner. I did what I could to bring a little order, and saw at once that this was a great relief to its occupant, who stood wringing her hands in the centre of the carpet, notknowing, it seemed, whether to fling her arms about me, or berate me for my meddling. I had not long finished my tucking and tidying when there was a soft tap at the door and it opened to reveal Augusta, hand in hand with little Amy. The latter slipped to my side and whispered that Augusta had just had one of her fits, but Miss Darby had been on hand, and all was well now. I went to Augusta and gave her a kiss, and she smiled timidly at me, though her cheeks were deeply flushed and her eyes still a little wild. Poor girl! I saw her suffer many of these seizures in the months that followed and I am sad to say that they got worse, if anything, over that time. It was not long before I recognized the tell-tale signs. A strange expression would pass across her face, and then she would suddenly stiffen in the most alarming manner, and fall to the ground, no matter where she was; her limbs would thrash about, her mouth would froth, and she would become so rigid and tense that the slightest touch seemed to hurt her. When the fits were particularly bad, her eyes would roll round so that naught but the whites were visible, which was especially terrifying to dear little Amy, who thought it signified that poor Augusta’s soul had been seized by a evil spirit, so I would always take care, if I was nearby, to take Amy apart and sit with her, telling her a fairy story, until Miss Darby had made all peaceable once more.
    I spent the next quiet, happy months at The Solitary House, surrounded by my friends, protected by my Guardian, and contriving to make myself as useful as I was cheerful. Then one August morning, Mr Jarvis called me to see him. The garden was in its full summer glory, the air fragrant, and the birds singing. When I opened the door of Mr Jarvis’ room, I saw at once that he was not alone. The two of them were standing by the fire talking, and they turned towards me when they heard my approach. Oh, she was so beautiful! Such lovely goldenhair, and such a pure and innocent face! I thought at once of my mother, and of the likeness of her I still kept close to my heart, and I was – for a moment – a little sad. I think that this lovely girl divined this somehow, for she came to meet me with a smile and kissed me, with nothing in her eyes but affection and acceptance. Oh, the joy and relief I felt at that moment!
    â€˜This, Hester,’ said Mr Jarvis, ‘is Clara. And this, Clara, is the Little Old Lady I told you of before. If The Solitary House is a happy house, it is because Dame Durden makes it so.’
    He said this out of his love for me, nothing more, and knowing that I almost fear to write it down, in case it should seem like vanity, but it is unlikely, after all, that anyone will ever read these pages but me.
    Clara took my hands in hers and led me to the window-seat, and she had such a enchanting way with her that we spent the whole of the rest of the morning sitting there with the sunlight upon her beautiful hair, talking and laughing together. I saw Mr Jarvis look his approval, and knew at once that he had designed we should be friends, and that I should do what I could to make the dear girl comfortable and content with us. In the days and weeks that followed we became inseparable, and Mr Jarvis was so good as to allow us to move to adjoining rooms on the ground floor, opening on to the garden, where I would walk before breakfast with my darling. I called her so even then, and it is so natural to me now that I cannot think of her in any