Free Going Home by Valerie Wood

been brushed.
    ‘And how old are you, Moira?’
    ‘I’m nine, miss. Ten in two weeks.’
    ‘I’m ten already.’ The barefoot boy spoke up. His hair was very dark and he had deep blue eyes. ‘Nearly eleven. And our Eamon is only seven so he can’t come to school yet, but when he does I shall leave.’
    Both children had strong Irish accents and both had pinched looks about their faces.
    ‘Are you brother and sister?’ Amelia asked.
    They nodded. ‘This is Kieran,’ Moira piped up. ‘He doesn’t like coming to school, but Ma says he has to. We have to learn to read and write so that we can get work.’
    Amelia thought of her younger brother and sisters who had a governess at home. Joseph too grumbled at having to learn lessons. He would rather be out on the estate with Roger and Uncle Sam, and Hannah would rather play with her dolls. Lily was the only one with any aptitude for learning, but there was no prospect of them ever having to look for work to earn their living.
    ‘How would it be if I helped you with yourreading and writing, Kieran, along with Miss Fielding and Miss Harriet? We’d get on very quickly then, and you could leave sooner than you expected and try for work.’
    The little boy put his head on one side and thought about it. ‘Sure,’ he agreed. ‘We could give it a try.’
    Moira looked at her eagerly. ‘Would you be helping me too, Miss Linton? Ma says I need a bit of a push on me backside to get me going.’
    Amelia laughed. ‘Why not? Shall we try to have you both reading by Christmas?’
    It was decided that Amelia should give the two children extra lessons on their own, and after Patrick, the coachman, had collected her and escorted her back to her aunt’s in the carriage that evening, she reflected that it had been a very satisfying day. She worried though that she was being a nuisance to her aunt and uncle by requiring Patrick to escort her to and fro every day. But there was nothing else for it. The days were short, the weather was damp and foggy and she could not journey home alone in the darkness.
    In the cosy parlour with the fire warming them, Kieran and Moira soon began to improve in their writing and arithmetic, but their Irish accent was so strong that although Amelia was sure they were reading the words correctly, she couldn’t always understand what they were saying. Again and again she corrected theirEnglish until at last she thought there was some improvement.
    Then came the day when there was a hammering on the door and a giant of an Irishman stood there with a pack on his back. He asked particularly for Miss Linton and in some trepidation, Harriet brought him through into the parlour where Amelia was sitting with Kieran and Moira and two other children. The lamps were lit and the children were grouped around a chenille-covered table with their books in their hands.
    ‘Mr Mahoney wants to speak to you, Miss Linton,’ Harriet said nervously. ‘I’ll just get Miss Fielding.’
    ‘I don’t want Miss Fielding,’ the man said brusquely. ‘It’s this young woman that I want. She’s the one who’s teaching my bairns to give up their Irish tongue and speak the English.’
    Amelia stood up, as did the children. Kieran and Moira stared apprehensively at their father. ‘Shall we go out into the hall, Mr Mahoney?’ she said in a braver tone than she felt. ‘Then the children can get on with their lessons.’
    ‘I’ll say what I have to say right here, miss. I never wanted them to come to school. They should be earning their own bread by now, same as I did at their age. Not sitting with a book in their hands in front of a warm fire as if they were grand folk! It was their mammy’s idea that they should come and I gave into her in a weak moment.’ He stared hard at Amelia and she sawthat his eyes were as blue as Kieran’s. ‘But I’ll not have them forgetting their roots. Irish we are and proud of it.’
    ‘And quite right too, Mr Mahoney.’ Amelia spoke up,