Free Miss Purdy's Class by Annie Murray Page A

thought he said grudgingly, ‘Well, I suppose that might be a solution.’
    ‘Yes,’ she muttered in the direction of his departing back, ‘and thank you for taking the trouble, Miss Purdy.’
    She put her coat on and scooped up the child into her arms. Lucy’s back and legs were wet with urine. Gwen wondered if she had a coat, but guessed that she probably didn’t. Hardly any of the children had top coats to wear, but ran along to school in the same clothes, rain or shine.
    It was pouring again. She hesitated by the door, but realized she could wait for ages and it didn’t seem about to let up. She stepped out, cursing that she hadn’t brought a hat, the rain seeping through her hair, cold on her scalp. It was raining so hard that when she turned out of the school gate she could hardly see her way along the road. A cyclist loomed out of the murk, head down, battling against the wind.
    Gwen’s hair was soon drenched, the cold water running down her face, dripping from her nose. A few people passed her, hurrying home. The splash of water from roofs and gutters was all around. Gwen leant forwards as far as she could, holding Lucy close to her, trying to protect her, and staggered along. Lucy slept on, undisturbed by the wet. Although she was a skinny child, her weight was still enough to be an effort and Gwen’s arms soon began to ache. She was glad to see the turning into Alma Street and the Alma Arms looking like a warm haven on the corner.
    The houses at that end of the street were small terraced ones. Some of them appeared quite cosy, though in others the windows were dark and desolate looking. She passed a few, then crossed a side street, realizing that number fifteen must be the shop on the opposite corner. The windows were lit up but with advertisements stuck all over them and so full of shelves of tins and packets that she could not see in. She also couldn’t manage the handle without putting Lucy down, though she managed to hoist Lucy up in such a way that she could knock.
    There was a pause, then she saw someone coming and the door opened with a ‘ting!’ To her surprise, a man opened the door. For some reason she had automatically assumed the shop would be run by a woman. In the dim light, the two things she took in about the man were his head of dark, curling hair and the fact that he was walking with a crutch and had a plaster cast on his left leg, the trouser leg rolled to the top of it. She also had the impression of someone solid and immensely strong. Gwen assumed this must be Lucy’s father. She could hear other children in the background and became aware of faces watching from the back of the shop. What a sodden spectacle she must look standing there!
    ‘How d’you do. I’m Miss Purdy – Lucy’s class teacher. I’m afraid she’s just had another fit.’
    ‘Mam!’ one of the boys shouted in the background. ‘It’s Lucy – she’s bad again!’
    ‘I see,’ the man said, and she heard that he was not local. He spoke differently from Lucy. ‘You’d better come in, then.’
    Gwen manoeuvred Lucy carefully inside, along a narrow way between two rows of shelves. Lucy’s feet caught the handle of a broom and knocked it over. They passed into the back room, which seemed crammed full of people, boys mainly. Rosa, the pretty elder sister, easily stood out among them. The man indicated that Gwen should lay Lucy in the chair by the fire, and as she put the child down, Lucy began to come round. Dazed, she looked round the room as if she couldn’t think where she was, especially when she saw her teacher standing there.
    ‘You all right now, Lucy fach ?’ the man asked, bending over her, and she nodded. She seemed happy to see him. In the light, Gwen saw that he was much younger than she had imagined. His hair was black, wavy, the face strong, dark-eyed and weathered looking and she saw a kind warmth towards the child. His voice was deep but soft. She was still trying to place the