Free The Bad Penny by Katie Flynn

was very far from the truth but it hurt her, even so. There was something about Patty’s flaxen hair, round blue eyes and rosy cheeks which seemed to mark her out as someone to be watched, and the teaching staff, with one accord, blamed her whenever things went wrong.
    Sometimes they were right, Patty acknowledged to herself, trudging along in the wake of the crocodile as it headed along Belvidere Road. Usually, they continued past St Paul’s Church and the Hamlet before turning right into The Elms, but today Miss Briggs led her crocodile down a different street before they reached the church. Patty, with her mind divided between the lump of chewing gum in her stomach and the pain of her crushed toes, did not wonder why Miss Briggs had chosen a different way home; she just hoped it was quicker. She might not have noticed the name of the street at all had Laura not given her a poke in the ribs. ‘This ’un’s your street, Patty,’ Laura hissed hoarsely. ‘I never knew you had a street all to yourself!’ As she spoke, she pointed to a neat nameplate and Patty was astonished to see that the other girl was right; this was indeed Peel Street. It was even spelled the same.
    Patty’s mind immediately abandoned both toes and chewing gum and began to revolve the strange coincidence of bearing the same name as a street. ‘I wonder if my relatives live here?’ she muttered. ‘No, they can’t do, ’cos it’s quite near the Durrant, so I dare say they’d pop in to see me from time to time. It’s strange, though, isn’t it? I suppose it might have been named for me dad if he’d done something special. Oh, Laura, I wish I could find out!’
    ‘I’spect it’s just a co … co …’ Laura said. ‘I’spect it don’t mean nothing, really. People who are special don’t put their kids into orphan asylums.’
    Patty gave this some thought and then, as they turned into The Elms, nodded agreement. ‘I s’pose you’re right. I say, what’s today? Is it bread and jam tea or is it bread and dripping?’
    ‘Bread and dr—’ Laura was beginning when Miss Briggs, at the head of the crocodile, turned to shoot them a suspicious glance.
    ‘Was someone talking?’ the teacher said sharply. ‘Patty Peel, if you want any tea you’d best button your lip.’
    The head of the crocodile turned into the entrance to Durrant House and, fortunately for Patty, Miss Briggs became too busy ordering them to the cloakroom and fussing about the way they hung up their coats, changed their shoes and put on their smocks to bother her further that afternoon.
    Meals were taken in the long dining room just past the cloakrooms. The children lined up in the corridor and were then marched in to have their meal, class by class. There was not room for the whole school to eat at the same time, and as one of Miss Briggs’s pupils Patty was now in the second wave to be fed. Since meals were small and skimpy affairs, however, it did not take long for the little ones to finish their food and go along to their playroom at the end of the building. And presently Patty, Laura and the rest of their class took their places on the long wooden benches, bowed their heads for grace and, when the word was given, began to eat the bread and golden syrup which was today’s fare. And very thinly the syrup was spread too, so that it was no more than a few golden bubbles distributed across the surface of the waxy margarine.
    As luck would have it, Patty was seated at the extreme end of one of the long tables, right next door to the prefect, who handed out the food, saw to it that no one took anyone else’s portion and generally kept order. Today, the prefect in charge of Patty’s table was Selina Roberts. She was a tall, slender girl with mouse-coloured hair and light blue eyes and was a general favourite with the younger children since she always had time to answer questions or to read storybooks to those still not able to read for themselves. Unfortunately, talking