Honourable Doctor, Improper Arrangement. Mary Nichols

who are housed here are not like the children you were amusing in the park, you know. They are rough and ready and sometimes their language is appalling. Others are withdrawn and uncommunicative.’

      She smiled. ‘I am well aware of that, Dr Redfern. There are poor children everywhere. I have always tried to do what I can for them.’

      His immediate need was for someone to cook and clean but, mindful of her rank, he could not ask that of her. ‘Do you think you could teach some of the younger ones their letters?’ he asked. ‘Their minds must be fed as well as their bodies.’

      ‘Of course. I shall be delighted. May I start at once?’

      ‘I am afraid there is no remuneration apart from expenses.’

      ‘I do not want wages or expenses; my husband left me adequately provided for and my needs are few. Just being with the children will be payment enough.’

      ‘You will have children of your own one day,’ he said, knowing he was probing, but curious to know why she had not married again.

      ‘I hope I may, but that is some way off yet and has no bearing on my wanting to help you.’

      He turned to her with a grin. ‘Me or the Society?’

      She laughed. ‘Is it not one and the same?’

      It suddenly occurred to him that she might be using the opportunity to banish demons of her own—her childlessness perhaps. Ought he to encourage her? But he could not send her away, could he? They had not been so besieged by people offering to help that he could afford to turn anyone away. And he understood about demons. ‘Very well. Let us go and meet the children.’

      He took her to the schoolroom, where about twenty children were assembled. The girls were dressed in the uniform of the home: plain grey cotton dresses, white aprons, white mob caps, black stockings and the boys in grey smocks over calf-length trousers. All wore sturdy boots. They were being supervised by a girl of fifteen or so.

      ‘This is Martha,’ Simon told Kate. ‘She can read a little and it is her task to keep the children occupied when they are not doing their allotted tasks about the house.’

      ‘Is that all the schooling they get?’

      ‘No, I have been teaching them myself, but my time is limited and, as you must have deduced last night, educating the children is not considered the most important of our tasks. If you can take over, it will be a great help.’ He clapped his hands to get the children’s attention. ‘Now, you little monsters,’ he said cheerfully, making them grin, ‘Mrs Meredith has come to teach you…’ He ignored the concerted groan and went on. ‘Stand up and say good morning to her.’

      They obeyed and Kate returned the greeting with a smile and told them to sit down again. They did so and silently waited. He could almost see their minds ticking over, wondering how far they dare go in tormenting the new teacher. He began to wonder if he had been wise to put her among them; he might have been better giving her some office work to do where she would have minimum contact with them. ‘If I hear of any misbehaviour, there will be beatings and no cake for a week,’ he said. Turning to Kate, he went on, ‘Martha will tell you where the slates and chalks are kept and the books. They have been donated by the church and other improving societies, not designed to grab their attention, I am afraid.’

      ‘Then we must find some that do,’ she said. ‘But first I must get to know them all.’

      ‘They will take advantage if they can, so do not stand for any nonsense. Send Michael to fetch me, if you need me. That’s Michael.’ He pointed to a boy of about twelve sitting at the end of the row.

      ‘I am shocked that you would even consider beating them,’ she murmured.

      ‘I would not dream of it, but they don’t know that.’ It was whispered with a mischievous grin.

      ‘Oh, I see. And I am to perpetuate the myth.’

      ‘It helps,’ he said laconically. ‘Shall I leave you to your fate?’

      ‘Are you doing your best to make me nervous, Doctor?’

      He smiled. ‘I have a feeling I would not succeed, at least not where children are concerned. When you have had enough, just let me know and I will escort you home.’

      He left the room and she turned back to the children. They were staring at her silently, sizing her up, and she knew the next few minutes would be crucial. She had spotted Annie Smith, still clutching her doll, and Joe, whose hair, having been washed, turned out to be the colour of ripe corn. ‘Now, children, I need to know what to call you. Stand up, one at a time, and tell me your names; if you know how to spell them, then tell me that too. I know Joe Barber and Annie Smith, and Michael, though I do not know his surname…’

      ‘Sandford,’ the boy called out, grinning at her. ‘And this ’ere’s Sarah Thomsett.’ He pointed to the girl sitting next to him.

      ‘Let her tell me herself.’

      Simon, standing outside the door listening, smiled to himself. Mrs Kate Meredith was going to be a great asset to the Society—that is, if she did not become discouraged by the children’s lack of progress and decided not to continue. As he walked away, he heard her lilting voice singing ‘oranges and lemons’ and encouraging the children to join in. He could hear them as he returned to his desk and sat down to continue with his work on the records. How happy she sounded!

      The time flew by and, before Kate realised it, the morning had gone and Dr Redfern was back to dismiss the children and take her home. He found her sitting on the floor, with Joe on her lap and the others sitting in a circle about her, playing a game that involved remembering a list of everyday articles one after the other in the right order. They seemed genuinely sorry when she stood up and said she must go, carefully removing Joe’s hand from her skirt and promising to come back soon.

      ‘Did you manage to get your work done?’ she asked Simon as they set off for Holles Street in his gig.

      ‘Yes, I did, thank you. You were a great help.’

      ‘I did not teach much in the way of reading and writing,’ she said.

      He laughed. ‘They will think that singing and playing games is all there is to education.’

      ‘It is a great part of it. Learning should be fun. Besides, I needed to hold their interest and gain their trust. I would never do that teaching them from those religious tracts I saw.’

      ‘Tut tut, and you a parson’s daughter.’

      She joined in his laughter. ‘I will bring some more suitable books tomorrow.’

      ‘So you intend to come again?’ he asked, careful to avoid the worst of the slums and taking a longer route via Pall Mall and Piccadilly, although parts of that were being dug up and houses demolished to make way for the Regent’s new road.

      ‘Of course, if you will have me.’

      ‘Have you! My dear Mrs Meredith, you are a godsend. It is not a question of will I have you, but will you want to come.’

      ‘Oh, I do. I have not enjoyed myself so much in years.’

      He was not as calm as he looked. He was acutely aware of her sitting beside him, so close her yellow skirt was brushing against his leg. She was a ray of sunshine and colour in those noisy dust-laden surroundings, but it was not only her external appearance that was so charming, but the inner woman, caring, practical and restful. She was looking straight ahead and he could not see her face properly for the flower-laden brim of her bonnet, but her hands were still in her lap. He did not know why he did it, but he took his left hand from the reins and put it over hers. ‘Thank you for that.’

      She looked down at his strong brown hand with puzzlement as if she could not understand how it got there nor why its warmth was spreading down her fingers, making her shiver in spite of the warmth of the day. She knew she ought to remove her hand from under his, but somehow did not want to. It was,