Free What the Heart Keeps by Rosalind Laker

welcomed the privilege of being allowed to play sometimes on the grand piano in the drawing-room, for she had been taught by one of the teachers at the orphanage, who had spotted that she had some musical talent. But the piano lid at Sherbourne Street was kept locked and remained that way. She could only
    assume that the fine instrument was there to give an additional touch of opulence to the over-decorated room, and to set off the silver-framed photographs of Miss Drayton’s father that were displayed upon it.
    On Sundays Lisa accompanied Miss Lapthorne to the Baptist Church on Bloor Street. The congregation was quite grand, arriving in fine carriages, the gentlemen in silk hats. A few people looked down their noses at having a Home girl in their midst, but on the first Sunday the minister had made a point of welcoming her from the pulpit, and the friendly smiles and nods of others made up for the slights she received.
    Although Miss Lapthorne was usually amiable, somehow Lisa could not trust her. It was not just the deceit over the banishing of Amy and Minnie. The woman was too indecisive and lacking in character to be relied upon at any time. It was in keeping with everything else that the spinster should constantly uphold the pretence of abhorring alcohol, saying that she only kept brandy in the house for medicinal purposes. Yet it was ever her refuge, for she could not endure any kind of tension without it. A drinking bout always followed a government official’s routine call at the house. She would fly into a flurry of agitation, getting Lisa’s assistance as soon as he appeared on the doorstep, entrusting her with carrying the books of entries from the specially unlocked drawers in Miss Drayton’s study into the drawing-room where he awaited them.
    Everything would be in order, and the official would always approve the spotlessness of the house when looking over the attic quarters waiting in neat order for the next batch of new arrivals. He never left the house in anything but an agreeable mood, but Miss Lapthorne was completely distrait when Lisa closed the door after him. That same night the spinster always shut herself away in her room with a bottle and did not emerge until noon the next day, looking pale with a headache that was troubling her.
    Lisa once asked her why these official visits upset her. Her gaze shifted as she blinked nervously. “I’m merely anxious not to let Miss Drayton down on any count. We are old friends from our schooldays. I have her interests always at heart.”
    That was apparent. It explained why somebody as efficient as Emily Drayton should tolerate Mavis Lapthorne as her deputy. At least when sober, which could be for weeks at a time when Lisa smoothed out minor domestic troubles for her, she kept the records and housekeeping ledgers in a beautiful hand. She also had the kind of prim looks and general appearance in public that only reflected good on the reputation of the Distribution Home if anyone should have any doubts about its reputation.
    Autumn came. Everywhere the trees were scarlet, crimson, orange, and yellow, the violence of colour tinting the interior of houses and filling Lisa with wonder at their splendour. Then suddenly Miss Drayton returned, disrupting the quietness with no fewer than fifty girls to be placed in domestic service, all between the ages of fifteen and seventeen. Mattresses had to be placed on floors to accommodate them in the attics, for Miss Drayton would not have her own part of the house invaded, and meals had to be taken in shifts at the kitchen table. Some of the girls were orderly, but most were on the wild side, quick to quarrel and, on occasions, fighting and hair-pulling.
    Miss Drayton lost no time in shipping them out. Mrs. Grant, of whom Lisa had heard previously, arrived to escort them. She was a tall, grim-faced woman, and her authoritative manner quelled even the most unruly. Lisa tried to gain some information from her about Amy and