Free Through Glass Eyes by Margaret Muir Page A

cardigan. It had shrunk and no longer fitted her. There were woollen socks too which were also too small.
    Humming softly and without waking her, Lucy slipped off the girls’ wet clothes and pulled the nightshirt over her head. The cardigan sleeves were far too long so she rolled them over several times. Lucy estimated the girl was the size of one of Sally Swales’ daughters – about nine years old.
    It was after six when Lucy heard sounds from the lane. From the front door she could see her son and at least four other men with horses. The rain had stopped, but water was still streaming into the garden. James invited one of the men into the living room. ‘Mum, this is Sergeant Wilkey.’
    The man tipped his hand to his wet hair and leaned over the little girl. ‘How is she, Missus?’
    ‘She’s sleeping,’ Lucy whispered. ‘She drank a little tea and warm milk, but she won’t eat anything.’
    ‘Has she said anything to you? We have to know where she came from.’
    ‘She hasn’t spoken.’
    He turned to James. ‘And you say she didn’t speak to you either?’
    ‘Never uttered a sound.’
    ‘Can you keep her here tonight, Missus? Just until we find who she belongs to.’
    ‘Of course.’Lucy turned to James. ‘Did you say her father was dead?’
    The sergeant answered. ‘There was a man’s body under the wagon. But we can’t be sure it’s the little lass’s dad. Even if he is, they must have other folk somewhere and before long they will be out looking for them. Until that happens I shall have to notify the authorities and the girl may have to be taken into care.’
    ‘She can stay here,’ Lucy said defensively, recalling stories she had heard of the orphans’ asylums. ‘You can’t move her now. I’ll look after her.’
    The sergeant sounded relieved. ‘Right then! We’ll leave her where she is till the morning. Let her have a good sleep. As for myself, it’s been a long day and I’ve got to get that body down to the morgue.’ As he turned to go, he took James’s hand and shook it. ‘You did a good job, young fella. If you hadn’t come across them when you did, I reckon we’d have had two bodies by the morning.’
    Lucy followed them to the door.
    ‘If you have any problems with the lass, your son knows where to find me.’
    James watched the men ride away before walking the horse to the back of the cottages and the stable he had helped Edward build. By the time he came in he was tired but had no appetite for food. At Lucy’s insistence, he swallowed one slice of meat, ate a cold potato, and drank a cup of cocoa, before going to bed.
    The little girl asleep on the sofa looked pale and delicate. Seeing her lying there reminded Lucy of Miss Beatrice, the delicate child in the four-poster bed at Heaton Hall. She reminded her of the expensive French doll which had once rested in the crook of a little girl’s arm. The expensive doll she had stolen. The same doll she had forgotten about since she had moved to Horsforth. It had been packed away for more than five years but it was about time it was brought out and put to good use.
     

Chapter 7
     
    Constance
     
     
    Working by the window in the dim light of early dawn, Lucy busily stitched the pieces of cloth together. She had cut the doll’s blouse from a piece of white cotton sheeting she had put aside for patches, and the tunic from an old twill skirt. The cloth was coarse, rusty brown in colour and faded in parts and it was not exactly the material she would have wished to make a doll’s school dress from. But it would suffice. After cutting a length of yellow ribbon to serve as a sash, Lucy was satisfied with the result. All that remained was to gather the stitches around the cuffs and sew a hem around the bottom of the skirt. The doll’s lace socks and buckled shoes were the ones it had been wearing when she had taken it from the Hall but they were still satisfactory.
    When Lucy threaded another length of cotton, she realized the