a shower room leading from it, an electric fire, a gas ring and a kettle. It was comfortably furnished and on the bed there was an assortment of blue and white striped dresses.
‘I’ve done the best I could,’ said Matron. ‘See if any of them fit—the best of them can be altered.’ She hesitated. ‘Mr Gardiner always calls me Matron—but the name’s Pagett, Norma. I should call you Matron as well, when the boys are around, but…’ She paused enquiringly.
‘Would you call me Mintie? It’s Araminta, really, but almost no one calls me that. Do I call you Miss Pagett?’
‘Heavens no, call me Norma. I’m sure we shall get on well together.’
Norma went back to her room and left Araminta to try on the dresses. One or two were a tolerable fit, so she changed, unpacked her few things and went back to Norma’s room.
There was just time to be given a brief resumé of her work before the boys’ suppertime, and presently, presiding over a table of small boys gobbling their suppers, Araminta felt a surge of content. She wasn’t happy, but it seemed that she had found the right job at last—and who could be miserable with all these little boys talking and shouting, pushing and shoving and then turning into pious little angels when Mr Gardiner said grace at the end of the meal?
Later that evening, sitting in her dressing gown, drinking cocoa in Norma’s room, Araminta reminded herself that this was exactly what she had wanted. She would never be a career girl, but she hoped there would be a secure and pleasant future ahead for her.
Hard on this uplifting thought came another one. She didn’t want security and life could be as unpleasant as it liked, if only she could see Marcus again.
The next few days gave her no chance to indulge in self-pity. Accustomed as she was to the care of small children, she still found the day’s workload heavy. Norma was well organised, being a trained children’s nurse, and efficient. She was kind and patient, too, and the boys liked her. They liked Araminta, too, and once she had learned her day’s routine, and her way round the school, she found that life could be pleasant enough even if busy—provided, of course, that she didn’t allow herself to think about Marcus.
The following weekend was an exeat, and the boys would have Saturday, Sunday and Monday to go home, save for a handful whose parents were abroad.
‘We will split the weekend between us,’ Norma told her, ‘I’ll have Friday evening—you can manage, can’t you?—and come back on Sunday at midday. You can have the rest of Sunday and Monday, only be back in the evening, won’t you? The boys will come back after tea. Mr Gardiner doesn’t mind how we arrange things as long as one of us is here to keep an eye on the boys who are staying—there aren’t many; all but half a dozen have family or friends to whom they go.’
‘I don’t mind if I don’t go home,’ said Araminta. ‘I’ve only just got here…’
‘Nice of you, but fair’s fair, and you’ll be glad of a couple of days away. This is always a busy term— Christmas and the school play and parents coming and the boys getting excited.’
Marcus van der Breugh, busy man though he was, still found time to phone Mrs Gardiner senior. ‘A happy coincidence,’ he told her, ‘that you should have mentioned your son’s urgent need for help. I am sure that Miss Pomfrey will be suitable for the work.’
Mrs Gardiner, with time on her hands, was only too glad to chat.
‘I heard from him yesterday evening. He is very satisfied. She seems a nice girl—the boys like her and the matron likes her. So important that these people should get on well together, don’t you agree? And, of course, she is fortunate in that it is an exeat at the weekend and she will be free for part of the time to go home. She and Matron will share the days between them, of course; someone has to be there for the boys who stay at the school.’ She gave a satisfied laugh. ‘I feel we must congratulate ourselves on arranging things so successfully.’
The doctor, making suitable replies when it seemed necessary, was already making plans.
Araminta was surprised to get a letter the next morning; her parents were still away and the writing on the envelope wasn’t her cousin’s. She opened it slowly; her first delighted thought that it was from the doctor was instantly squashed. The writing was a woman’s; his writing was almost unreadable.
It was from Lucy Ingram. She had asked her brother where Araminta was, she wrote, and he had given her the school’s address. Could Araminta come and stay for a day or two when she was next free? The boys were so anxious to see her again. ‘It’s an exeat next weekend and I dare say all the schools are the same. So if you are free, do let us know. I’ll drive over and fetch you. Do come if you can; it will be just us. Will you give me a ring?’
Araminta phoned that evening. It would be nice to see Peter and Paul again, and perhaps hear something of Marcus from his sister. She accepted with pleasure but wondered if it was worth Mrs Ingram’s drive. ‘It’s only a day and a half,’ she pointed out, ‘and it’s quite a long way.’
‘The M4, M25, and a straight run down to Eastbourne. I’ll be there on Sunday at noon. And we shall love to see you again.’
The school seemed very empty once most of the boys had gone and Norma had got into her elderly car and driven away. There were eight boys left, and with Mr Gardiner’s permission Araminta had planned one or two treats for the next day. The pier was still open and some of the amusements—the slot machines, the games which never yielded up a prize, the fortune-teller—were still there.
After their midday dinner she marshalled her little flock and, armed with a pocket full of tenpenny pieces which she handed out amongst them, she let them try everything and then trotted them along the esplanade and into the town, where they had tea at one of the smartest cafés.
Mr Gardiner had told her to give them a good time, that she would be reimbursed, so they ate an enormous tea and, content with their outing, walked back through the dusk to the school. Since it was a holiday they were allowed to stay up for an hour and watch television after their supper. Araminta, going from bed to bed wishing them goodnight, was almost as tired as they were.
She put everything ready for the morning before she went to bed, praying that Norma would be as good as her word and return punctually.
She did. Araminta, back from church with the boys and Mr Gardiner and his wife, wished everyone a hurried goodbye and went out of the school gate to find Mrs Ingram waiting there.
‘You’ve not been waiting long?’ she asked breathlessly. ‘It’s been a bit of a scramble.’
‘Five minutes. How nice to see you again, Mintie. I thought we’d stop for lunch on the way; we’ll be home before three o’clock and then we’ll have an early tea with the boys. They can’t wait to see you again.’
‘It’s very kind of you to invite me. I—I didn’t expect to see you or the boys again.’
‘You like this new job?’ Mrs Ingram was driving fast along the almost empty road.
‘Yes, very much. I’ve only been here for a week. I started nursing, but I wasn’t any good at it. Dr van der Breugh happened to see me at the hospital and arranged for me to give up training, and he happened to know of this school. He’s been very kind.’
Mrs Ingram shot her a quick look. ‘Yes, he is. Far too busy, too. We
