to get them some clean clothes,’ Breda said. ‘The twins have gone to bed like a couple of tinkers and Janet here came home yesterday with holes in her stockings and her dress only fit for the rag bag.’
Janet, who’d been loaned a pair of Breda’s pyjamas for the night, saw the doctor’s eyebrows raised quizzically, and explained, ‘I fell over.’
She said the same thing, just a few minutes later, when Peter had left for work and Breda had gone upstairs to change out of her slippers. Dr Black and Janet were alone. Janet reached across the table to collect the cups to rinse in the sink and suddenly Dr Black took hold of her hand and turned it over gently.
Janet looked at the blistered ridges that had appeared overnight and pulled away from the doctor’s grasp. ‘I fell over,’ she said again. ‘Auntie Breda told you about the state of my clothes.’
‘Yes,’ said Dr Black, ‘but Auntie Breda’s not here now and you can tell me what really happened.’
‘I told you.’
‘Janet, I’m not a fool,’ the doctor said impatiently. ‘Who did this to you?’
‘Did what?’
‘Someone’s hit you with a cane or something,’ Dr Black said. Despite his impatience, he understood Janet’s reluctance to speak out: she wasn’t the type who was often in trouble and was probably ashamed that she’d been punished.
Janet looked at the doctor. She’d known him all her life. She wondered what would happen if she was to tell him everything. She gave an involuntary shiver. It didn’t bear thinking about.
She stared at him and said decisively, ‘I fell over.’
Dr Black sighed. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘have it your own way. But you’ve got dirt in it. If you don’t want it to fester, it will have to be cleaned and dressed.’
By the time Breda came down, Dr Black was winding a bandage expertly around Janet’s hand.
‘Young Janet got some dirt in that cut on her hand,’ he said by way of explanation to Breda. ‘Have to keep it out of the water for a day or two.’
‘What some people will do to get out of the washing-up,’ Breda said with a smile at Janet.
Janet was too nervous to smile back. She’d been worried what the doctor would tell Auntie Breda and was grateful to him for saying nothing. Her hand felt much better, though it had stung like mad when he was cleaning it. But the ointment he’d dabbed on it was soothing and now it felt much easier, protected as it was by the thick wad of bandage.
Duncan, much to his disgust, was dispatched with a shopping list later that morning. Seeing the sulky droop of his lips Breda said sharply, ‘Don’t even bother complaining, Duncan. Janet is more help to me in the house, and anyway, she can hardly carry heavy bags with her sore hand.’
He went, only slightly mollified. Being unused to shopping, it took him even longer than it did Janet, and when he’d finished he turned for home gratefully. He was aware of his grumbling stomach and knew it must be nearly lunchtime. As he turned into Paget Road, the rain began. The early April shower was cold and stung his face, and he bent his head against it. Suddenly he cannoned into someone whose own view was obscured by the umbrella they were battling with. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I didn’t see … oh, hello, Miss Wentworth.’
‘Hello, Duncan.’
Claire saw the bulging bags and realised that he’d been kept at home to help. She’d hoped that was the reason Janet was away too. ‘How’s your mother?’ she asked. Duncan looked at her in astonishment. Although news on the estate travelled like wildfire, usually teachers were excluded from the inner circle of gossip.
‘I called at the house yesterday,’ Claire said, seeing Duncan’s surprise. ‘Janet left school in such a rush, she forgot her coat and bag.’
Duncan’s eyes narrowed. Janet hadn’t left school in a rush. She’d arrived at Breda’s after him. But this wasn’t the time to go into it. He was aware of the rain seeping into his coat, despite the umbrella Miss Wentworth held over them both.
‘My mom’s all right,’ he said. ‘She had a baby girl.’
‘And the baby?’
‘She’s in a special baby place,’ Duncan said. ‘The doctor came round and told us. She’s sick but the doctor seems to think she’s a fighter.’
He fidgeted a little. The bags were getting heavy. ‘I gotta go,’ he said. ‘The shopping!’
‘Yes,’ Claire said, ‘of course.’ Then added, ‘Is … is … Janet’s hand better?’
Now, how did she know about Janet’s hand? Duncan thought.
‘She says it feels easier now the doctor’s dressed it,’ he said. He watched carefully to see what Miss Wentworth’s reaction would be to his words.
He wasn’t disappointed. Miss Wentworth started, her eyes seemed to grow larger and her voice was a mere whisper as she said, ‘A doctor! She had to see a doctor?’
‘No, he came round, I told you,’ Duncan said. ‘To tell us about Mom. He saw Janet’s hand and said she’d got dirt in it and he cleaned it and put ointment and stuff on and a bandage.’
‘She’d got dirt in it?’ Miss Wentworth repeated.
‘Yes, from when she fell over,’ Duncan said.
‘From when she fell over?’
Duncan wondered if Miss Wentworth was going deaf or daft. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That was how she hurt it, wasn’t it?’ He wondered again how Miss Wentworth knew. Had she seen her fall or what? Or maybe one of the kids had said? It wasn’t important. His arms felt as if they were breaking and he dared not put the bags on the soggy ground. ‘I really must go,’ he said.
‘Of course. Tell your sister I’m sorry.’
‘What for?’
‘Just tell her.’
Duncan’s face was creased in a frown. He was certain Miss Wentworth was going loopy. It’s all that studying, he thought, enough to turn anyone’s brain. He was even more certain of this when Miss Wentworth continued, ‘And tell her she’s sure to hear any day now about the examination results.’
‘But … well, she knows, doesn’t she?’ Duncan said. He’d read the thing himself, for heaven’s sake, and he knew Miss Wentworth must know. He’d been sent to the factory to tell his dad, and when he got back his mom said Janet had ridden over to tell her teacher. He looked at Miss Wentworth and wondered if she’d had a knock on the head. She was staring at him as if he was the one who was odd, her eyes narrowed in disbelief and her mouth agape.
‘She … she can’t know,’ she said at last. Her mind didn’t want to accept it.
‘She does know,’ Duncan said emphatically. He didn’t like being disbelieved. ‘I picked up the letter and opened it because she wouldn’t, and it said she’d won a scholarship to Whytecliff High School. They went to see the
