Free Strawberry Fields by Katie Flynn Page A

said, therefore. ‘Perhaps Ruby might enjoy a walk?’
    But even the suggestion was enough to bring her mother’s thin brows together in an impatient frown.
    ‘Oh no, Sara. We pay the maids to work, not to enjoy walks,’ she said tartly. ‘Read a book, or – or do some sums.’
    ‘But that isn’t going out of doors, and Father said . . .’ Sara began, indignation taking the place of caution. Her mother, who had begun to move on towards the stairs, stopped short.
    ‘Oh, your father said so, did he? Well, I really can’t spare a maid and the snow’s far too thick anyway. You’ll simply have to content yourself with the schoolroom.’
    Her foot was on the bottom stair. Sara raised her voice in a last desperate plea for understanding, perhaps even sympathy.
    ‘I must go out, Father said so! Oh, I wish Nanny was still here, she loves to walk in the park!’
    Sara expected her mother to continue to climb the stairs, perhaps not even to answer her, so she was astonished when her mother whipped round, looking extremely cross.
    ‘Well, she isn’t. But if you’re so keen to see her I’ll get Robson to take you round there this afternoon. No, you can go this morning – why not? And I’ll tell Adolphus that you can stay there until Jane comes back. And no playing out in the street, do you understand me?’
    Sara would have promised anything, done anything, but she knew the value of a bombardment of words. If she played her cards right she need not actually make any specific promises at all.
    ‘Oh, Mother, thank you,’ she said fervently. ‘I’ll do everything Nanny tells me and I’ll help her in the house, go shopping with her . . . I’ll be very, very good.’
    ‘I’ll order the car for eleven o’clock,’ her mother said, not bothering to reply. ‘And I’ll send for you as soon as Jane’s back. And if it isn’t convenient for Mrs Prescott she’ll have to bring you home herself,’ she added spitefully. ‘And pay for a taxi – unless she brings you on the tram, of course.’
    ‘Thank you, Mother,’ Sara said again. She did not add that she knew Nanny would have walked home with her if necessary, nor that Nanny would be delighted to have her as a guest. Her mother, she knew, was quite capable of suddenly deciding that it had not been a good idea after all, and sharply retracting her promise.
    But nothing of the sort happened. Her mother climbed the stairs and vanished around the corner and Sara continued on down to the basement.
    In the kitchen, her news was greeted with some relief.
    ‘It ain’t that we don’t want you, Miss Sara, but it’s awkward, wi’ Jane away,’ Bessie explained. ‘There’s so much work, see, and cartin’ your trays upstairs of a mornin’, lightin’ the schoolroom fire, makin’ you a luncheon . . . well, it’s all extra, when Jane’s off.’
    ‘I don’t mind at all, because I like being at Nanny’s so much,’ Sara said. ‘We have a lovely time, Nanny and me. Can I give you a hand with the washing-up, Bessie?’
    ‘It’s good of you, Miss, but I’ll do it in no time. You go up and pack yourself a bag,’ Bessie said diplomatically, clattering dishes. ‘And don’t forget to wear your wellington boots, acos the snow’s that thick you’ll be soaked, else.’
    Sara agreed to do so and hurried back up the three flights of stairs once more, to the schoolroom high up under the eaves. She had never packed for herself before but could see no difficulty; she would just pack her nicest things and some play-clothes and then go and wait for Robson to bring the car round.
    ‘Where’s all your knickers, queen? And I can only find odd stockings.’
    Nanny had been absolutely delighted to find her charge on her doorstep, beaming and rosy, with the news that she was to stay with Mrs Prescott until the girl Jane returned to her duties. She had hugged Sara, and kissed her many times, thanked Robson for his care of her and carried her off to the neat front parlour, where