Free Frost Hollow Hall by Emma Carroll

that was just idle gossip.’
    ‘Some of it, maybe,’ she said. ‘But if you want to go into service, you’d do better trying somewhere else.’
    I shook my head. I didn’t fancy clearing up after just anyone. My heart was set on this job. It was my chance to be a fly on the wall, a part of the furniture. And all the talk of queer happenings made me want to work there even more. Only I couldn’t explain this to Ma.
    Yet she must’ve seen that my mind was set, because she got to her feet and put a pan of water on the stove.
    ‘So when you going to ask about this job?’
    ‘Soon as you can spare me, I suppose,’ I said, thinking how pale she looked.
    She nodded. ‘Right. We’ll have you ready in an hour. Can’t send you to Frost Hollow Hall looking like a ragamuffin, can we?’
    With that, Ma seemed to spring into life. While I shined my boots and found a clean shift, she busied herself brushing out my best Sunday frock and sponging down the bits where mud still clung to the skirts. She’d spread it across the table, which got me picturing the kitchens again up at Frost Hollow Hall and me laid out, half dead from drowning. A shiver ran right down my back. Poor Kit . No one had pulled him free. His spirit was still in that dreadful lake, even now.
    Then Ma said, ‘How did this hem come loose?’
    She was frowning at the place in my skirt where Kit had hidden his ring. My heart gave a painful thud.
    ‘Oh . . . um . . . Must’ve caught it somehow.’
    ‘Hmmm,’ she said, biting the black thread with her teeth. ‘They wear uniform up at the Hall, I s’pect. Tear that, and you’ll be mending it yourself.’
    ‘Promise I’ll be careful.’ I would too. And not just because of the sewing. I’d be wearing something neat, for once. Something that might actually fit.
    Ma went upstairs and came back with her best red flannel petticoat.
    ‘For you,’ she said. ‘To make you feel smart, even if your frock has seen better days.’
    I jumped to my feet. ‘Blimey! Really? For me?’
    ‘Not ’til you’ve had a proper wash.’
    The pan of water was warm by now, so I poured it into our tin bath and stripped off, teeth chattering. The water was grey when I’d finished. Then I wrapped myself in an old sheet and sat by the hearth to dry out my hair.
    As I watched the flames, I began to feel very sorry that I had to leave Ma at all. We only had each other now. By this time tomorrow, who knew where I’d be and what I’d be up to? So much was changing. And so very fast. My head ached with it all.
    ‘Buck up, then!’ said Ma, bringing me back to myself. And she might’ve meant herself too, for she’d turned all thoughtful again too.
    I dressed quickly, glad to be in clean clothes for once.
    ‘Last touch,’ Ma said. She twisted my hair into a knot on the top of my head and pinned it in place. ‘You look . . . ’ Her lip began to tremble. ‘Very respectable indeed.’
    She steered me towards the gloomy old mirror above the mantel. When I saw my reflection, I gasped. I’d never worn my hair like this before, all swept off my shoulders and held up with pins. My eyes were huge dark things and my neck seemed so slender and pale, I barely recognised myself. I turned this way and that, unable to stop smiling.
    What would Kit think of me now?
    ‘You’re blushing at yourself!’ Ma said, smiling a little too. ‘But goodness me, how fine you look! Why, you’re pretty as a rose!’
    And she sounded surprised, like she’d never really noticed before.

13
Frost Hollow Hall
    ‘Not at work again?’ said Will, as I passed his pa’s shop half an hour later. The village clock had just chimed ten. Miss Fletcher would be wondering where I was, but I didn’t have time to stop at the school and explain. I didn’t have time for Will Potter neither. He was sweeping snow from the front steps, and though I tried to ignore him, he put down his broom and fell in beside me.
    ‘You look different too.’
    ‘Keep your beak