Beth

by Nora Kay

Genres: Sagas

Synopsis

Growing up in the idyllic seaside town of Sandyneuk on Scotland's east coast, Beth Brown and Caroline Parker-Munro become best friends despite the difference in their backgrounds. And when Beth is abandoned by her missionary parents, it is Caroline's family that takes her in, and Caroline who protects her from the ill-feeling of her more class-conscious relations. Beth grows up to be a beauty and finds her friendship with Caroline threatened when the two girls fall in love with the same man. Adrian Scott-Hamilton fancies himself in love with Beth, but plans to marry Caroline for her wealth and position. A plan which can only lead to heartache . . .

Release date: May 23, 2013

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 455

Sample

The last of the children to come out of Sandyneuk Primary School were two small girls. One of them pointed to a woman standing alone and well apart from the young mothers
gossiping at the school gate.

‘Is that lady your mummy?’

‘Yes,’ Beth answered shortly, and her small mouth buttoned. Mary Watson had no need to ask, she knew it was her mother.

‘My mummy thinks she’s your gran and not your mummy.’

‘Well, she isn’t, she’s my mummy,’ Beth said indignantly.

‘She looks old, that’s why. She looks like my gran only she doesn’t because my gran looks nicer.’ Having said her say the child skipped ahead and out of the gate.

Beth watched her go, wanting to put out her tongue, but afraid to in case her mummy saw her and Beth knew she’d be very cross. Her mummy did look old, that was the worst of it, but Mary
Watson didn’t have to go and say so. Crossing to where her mother stood Beth wished with all her heart that she had a mummy who was young and wore pretty clothes.

Harriet Brown smiled to her daughter, then frowned.

‘Must you always be last, Beth?’ She wore a drab brown coat on this bright, breezy April day, with a cloche hat of the same colour.

‘I couldn’t help it, my shoe lace came undone and I had to stop and tie it.’

‘At your age you should be able to tie them so that they don’t come undone.’ They moved off together, the tall, thin woman and the child. For ail her drab clothes Harriet Brown
was a good-looking woman with a smooth, oval face and a nice figure. The child with her long, skinny legs would likely be tall, too. Beth resembled her mother in all but her hair which was dark
like her father’s. Harriet’s was light brown with traces of grey.

Beth was deep in thought. Should she or should she not tell her mother? She decided she should.

‘Mummy, do you know what Mary Watson said?’

‘That’s just silly, Beth, how could I possibly know since you haven’t told me.’

With the tip of a pink tongue Beth moistened her lips and said the words into herself first. It was important to get them right. ‘She said that – her mummy – said that my mummy
– looked like a grandma.’

Beth watched the angry colour flood her mother’s face. ‘That was an extremely rude thing to say.’

‘Are you very old, mummy?’ Beth persisted.

‘No, I am not very old, I am not old at all, just older than – than—’

‘The other mothers,’ Beth added helpfully.

‘Yes.’

‘Is daddy very old?’ Beth thought about her daddy and decided he must be a hundred.

‘No, he is not. We are what you could call older parents, dear. Do you understand now?’ But of course the child didn’t, it was obvious she didn’t, her little face was
puckered in concentration.

‘No, I don’t, mummy, I don’t really understand why you had to wait until you were old to have me borned.’

Harriet had to smile. The child could be quite amusing, some of the things she came away with.

‘I wasn’t old,’ she said sharply, ‘just old to be having a first baby.’

‘You’re hurting my hand,’ Beth complained, ‘you’re holding it too tight.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to,’ Harriet said letting the small hand go free, ‘but do keep up.’

Beth was almost running. ‘You don’t need to meet me from school. I can come home all by myself.’

‘If I were to allow you to do that, would you promise to come straight home and not have me worried?’

‘Yes, mummy, I promise.’

‘Very well, Beth, starting Monday I won’t come to meet you.’ Harriet smiled to herself as she said it. She had been thinking about allowing the child to find her own way home
but she was pleased that Beth had suggested it herself. Though it wasn’t far from number three Sycamore Lane to the school, the double journey and the waiting about dug into her day. Then
there was the embarrassment of being so much older than the other mothers and feeling their eyes on her.

As for six-year-old Beth, she was just hugely delighted with her victory. No one would call her a baby now or worse, say that her mummy looked like a grandma. They wouldn’t if they
didn’t see her.

Running ahead, Beth went round to the back door of the neat little cottage that was home to George, Harriet and Beth Brown. The front door, with its shining brass door knob and letterbox, was
seldom used. Only the occasional visitor or the minister, who visited his flock twice a year (more often if they were ill), came in that way. All the houses in the lane were similar but the garden
at number three was the best kept.

The garden was Harriet’s hobby and she spent as much time as possible in it. To the front of the house there was a small patch of grass kept short, and in spring and summer the borders
were a blaze of colour. Just now the long trumpeted golden daffodils were at their best with the tulips alongside just beginning to show their pinks and reds. The ground to the back was long and
narrow and on a slight slope and much of it was given over to the growing of vegetables. In one corner there was a chicken coop, and eggs surplus to their requirements were sold.

‘Keep your coat on, dear, we’ll take a walk to Inverbrae with the eggs.’

‘It’s too hot, I don’t need my coat,’ Beth complained.

‘Yes, you do, that wind has a real chill in it and I don’t want you getting a cold.’

Beth sighed. She knew better than to argue and stood with her coat on watching her mother pick up the box from the pantry shelf with each egg carefully wrapped in newspaper. Then they set off
along the lane and up the steep hill to Inverbrae House.

Sandyneuk was a seaside village on the east coast of Scotland and a pleasant place to live. In the summer months day-trippers flocked to the beach laden with baskets of food,
thermos flasks of tea, extra cardigans in case the weather got chilly, buckets and spades and all the other paraphernalia so necessary for a family day out. The more affluent holiday-makers rented
a house for one or two weeks and did for themselves. At the end of the season, when the visitors had gone, there was a curious silence which took a little time to get used to. Most of the
villagers, though not the shopkeepers, were glad to have Sandyneuk to themselves.

Harriet and George were among those who appreciated the quietness. They were a placid couple, always ready to give a helping hand but who generally kept themselves to themselves.

George earned his living as a clerk with a local building firm. He was very efficient at his job but his heart wasn’t in it. He longed for a different life, a worthwhile life spent doing
missionary work in Africa, India or wherever the Lord had need of his services. As a lay preacher, George felt himself well qualified and it was at a Prayer Meeting that he had met the woman who
was to become his wife. Discovering that they both had an interest in missionary work drew them together. Love didn’t enter into it and neither Harriet nor George looked for more than liking
and respect. Marriage, however, was desirable. A couple, legally tied, could do so much more and accommodation was less of a problem for a couple than two single people.

Harriet was thirty-eight and George five years older when they married. A year later they were making arrangements to go to Africa when Harriet discovered she was pregnant. It was difficult to
know which of them was the more appalled. Nearing forty, Harriet had been so sure that motherhood was no longer a threat, but it had happened. She couldn’t go but she insisted that George
should go without her. George was torn between his desire to go and his duty to his wife. Harriet did have a sister who might be called on to help, though they weren’t particularly close. In
the event it was the doctor who made the decision for them. His patient, he said bluntly, was not having a trouble-free pregnancy and there was her age, old to be having a first baby. At a time
like this a husband should put his wife first. His own opinion, not voiced, was that visiting heathen countries was a waste of money and that there were plenty of folk in this country in need of
spiritual help.

‘Mummy, do you think we might see the little girl today?’

‘No, Beth, I think that highly improbable. The child won’t be allowed to wander about in the servants’ quarters, nor the kitchen.’

‘Is that because she is better than us?’

‘She and her family have advantages that we don’t have but if you listened properly in church you would know that in the sight of our Lord we are all His children, we are all
equal.’

‘Then why does she have a big house and we have a little one?’

Harriet sighed. She shouldn’t complain, asking questions was a sign of intelligence, but it was very wearing when the questions went on and on.

‘Her family is one where wealth and property are handed down to the next generation.’

‘Why doesn’t she go to my school?’

‘I expect the daughter of the house will have a governess.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Someone who teaches,’ Harriet said wearily. Her arms were beginning to ache, not so much from the weight of the eggs, but from the careful way in which they had to be carried.

There was silence while Beth thought this over. ‘You mean, mummy, that she has a teacher all to herself?’

‘Yes, that is it exactly.’

‘Will she be cleverer than me?’

‘Not necessarily,’ Harriet smiled, ‘you have a good teacher.’

The answer pleased Beth, she’d got a star for spelling and all her sums right but she was keeping it a secret until daddy came home. She wanted to tell them together.

They were almost there. Beth wondered what it would be like to live in a big house with servants to do everything. The thought of a little girl like herself living at Inverbrae House fascinated
Beth and she longed to see her.

Set on a rise and sheltered by mature trees, Inverbrae House was surrounded by acres and acres of land, much of it rented out. When it was built it was considered a monument to
wealth, though there was nothing vulgar or showy about it. Rather it had a classic simplicity that was pleasing to the eye and the ivy, twisted round the pillars at the entrance, gave it a
welcoming look.

The wrought-iron gates were just ahead of them and a wide, tree-lined driveway led up to the imposing stone frontage. As always Beth took a long look at all this grandeur before turning left to
walk along a gravel path that led to the rear of the house. After passing a number of outbuildings and the stables, they reached the servants’ quarters. The lesser orders had tiny rooms at
the top of the house with windows little bigger than portholes. Each room was furnished with a cheap wooden wardrobe with a drawer at the bottom. There was a narrow bed beneath the fall down roof
and many a young maid forgetting the danger and rising quickly, was reminded of it by a painful crack on the head.

As befitted their positions, the housekeeper, Mrs Murdoch and Mrs Noble, the cook, were provided with a comfortably furnished bed-sitting room. The placing of Miss Mathewson, the governess, was
more difficult since she was neither family nor servant, but at Inverbrae House they had solved the problem by giving her a room on the same floor as the nursery. Nanny Rintoul had a room next to
her charge.

The outer door was open and Harriet pushed Beth ahead of her. ‘On you go, dear, and knock.’

Beth did as she was told and rapped her knuckle on the door as hard as she could.

‘Come in,’ a voice called.

‘Go on, Beth, open it.’

Beth turned the knob and pushed and a wonderful, mouthwatering smell of baking wafted out.

‘Thought it might be you, Mrs Brown. Yes, that’s right, just put them there on the table. I keep yours for the breakfasts and Cunningham’s do fine enough for the baking.’
She was a dumpling of a woman with reddish fair hair cut short and her round face was usually smiling. A huge white apron tied at the back with strings enveloped her ample frame.

Harriet had little social chat but it went unnoticed since Mrs Noble had plenty to say. Some would call the cook a gossip and perhaps they were right, but she was never deliberately hurtful.

‘I was going to wait until tomorrow to bring them.’

‘Glad you didn’t, I’m down to my last dozen.’ Clouds of white flour rose as she pounded and kneaded the dough and Beth watched in fascination. The punishment went on
until Mrs Noble declared it was ready then, picking up a cloth, she opened the oven door and shot the tray in. ‘Now I can relax for a wee while and enjoy a cuppie. You’ll join me, Mrs
Brown?’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ Harriet smiled as she sat down. The cup of tea would be very welcome.

‘Undo your coat, it gets that hot in here.’

Beth stood as her mother loosened her coat. Her eyes were on the biscuits cooling on the tray.

‘That you just come from school, Beth?’

‘Yes.’

Waddling to the pantry she returned with a jug of milk and, after removing the cloth weighted with beads, filled a cup.

‘There you are, lass, drink that and help yourself to a biscuit. No, make that two, you’re a growing girl.’

Beth had one biscuit in her hand and the other was hovering as she stole a glance at her mother. Harriet gave a slight shake of the head.

‘One is quite enough, Mrs Noble.’

‘Away with you.’ Picking one up she put it in Beth’s hand. ‘Drink your milk and eat your biscuits outside if that is where you’d rather be.’

Beth smiled and nodded. She liked Mrs Noble and not just because she got something to eat from her, but because she knew that listening to grownup talk wasn’t any fun for little girls.

‘My, that’s a warm winter coat you’re wearing,’ Mrs Noble said looking at Beth’s navy nap coat, ‘you must be sweating in that?’

Beth nodded again. Nodding was rude, she knew that, but if she said anything she would have to swallow the piece of biscuit and she would lose all the lovely taste.

‘There’s a chill air outside,’ Harriet said but halfheartedly.

‘Bairns don’t feel the cold the way we do and I see she has a warm jumper on.’ With what could have been a wink she helped Beth off with her coat and opened the door for
her.

Once outside Beth began walking without paying any attention to where she was going. Her first biscuit had slipped over too quickly and she was determined to make the other one last as long as
possible.

Coming to the high hedge surprised her, she didn’t remember coming this way before but she wasn’t lost. She could quite easily find her way back to the kitchen. What, she wondered,
was on the other side of the hedge? A break in it couldn’t be ignored and allowed her to peer through. As she did voices drifted across. Beth kept as quiet as a mouse, she didn’t want
anyone to know she was there. Moving nearer to get a better view, she was thrilled to see what to her looked like a very big doll’s house. The windows of it had pretty flowered curtains, the
chairs were cushioned and she could see right in to where a little girl was sitting at the table and chewing the end of a pencil. Beth nearly giggled out loud. She did that and got into
trouble.

This, then, must be the little rich girl, the girl she longed to meet, and the woman bending over the table as though explaining something would be the governess. Beth could hardly contain her
excitement.

‘It’s too difficult, Mattie.’

‘Of course it isn’t, Miss Caroline, you are just not paying attention.’

Fancy being called Miss Caroline! Beth began putting ‘Miss’ before her own name but it didn’t sound nearly as nice as Miss Caroline. She tried it with her real name and decided
that Miss Elizabeth sounded even better than Miss Caroline.

‘I’m tired, I’ve been paying attention for ages and ages and when I’m tired I don’t have to do lessons. Daddy said so, so there!’

‘That was when you were unwell, Miss Caroline, but you are very much better now.’ The woman paused then added, ‘And what would your grandmother have to say if I were to tell
her that you are falling behind with your schoolwork?’

The mention of her grandmother had the desired effect as the governess knew it would.

‘You don’t have to tell her, Mattie, and truly, truly I’ll work very hard tomorrow. No, I won’t, tomorrow is Saturday, but Monday, I’ll work very hard on
Monday.’

‘Is that a promise you mean to keep?’

‘Yes, honestly it is, and now will you please go away and let me sit here by myself for a little while?’

‘Very well,’ came in a resigned tone, ‘I’ll take these things to the schoolroom and come back for you.’

‘You don’t need to.’

‘Nevertheless I intend to. I’ll give you ten to fifteen minutes, no more, and keep that rug over your legs.’

Beth watched a pair of thick legs in lisle stockings and brown flat-heeled shoes walk away. She was about to walk away too in case her mother was looking for her, but she was stopped in her
tracks.

‘I know you are there, I saw you moving so you might as well come out.’

Beth was in two minds. She knew it would be safer to run away but curiosity nagged at her and won. Parting the foliage she stepped out and her eyes widened at what she saw. She was in another
world where the explosion of space was overwhelming. Vast areas of grass like green velvet spread out before her and dotted all around were carefully tended flower beds. Further away heads bobbed
as the gardeners heaped the cuttings into the barrows to wheel away for compost.

The six-year-olds looked at each other, the one so dark with blue black hair, dark eyes and cheeks that were a healthy pink. The other had pale yellow hair, pale blue eyes and pale skin. The
yellow ringlets swung as she spoke.

‘What were you doing hiding?’ she demanded.

Beth didn’t have an answer.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ It was what her grandmother said to her when she didn’t have an answer.

The expression was new to Beth and she thought it funny. How could a cat get hold of her tongue, and anyway she couldn’t see one. ‘I’m waiting for my mummy.’

‘Where is she?’

Beth pointed vaguely. ‘With Mrs Noble.’

‘Our cook, oh, she’ll be ages then,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Grownups do a lot of talking.’

‘If that lady finds me here, will she be angry?’

‘I expect so but it doesn’t matter. Mattie’s just my governess,’ she said dismissively.

‘Mattie’s a funny name.’

‘That’s not her real name, silly, I just call her that.’

‘What is her name?’

‘Miss Mathewson. What is yours?’

‘Beth.’

‘Beth what?’

‘Beth Brown, but my real name is Elizabeth.’

‘Mine is Caroline Parker-Munro.’

‘That’s a long name.’

‘You would have to call me Miss Caroline.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you would, that’s why.’

‘Then you have to call me Miss Elizabeth, that’s only fair,’ Beth said with a toss of her head.

‘Is it? Oh, well, you can call me Caroline when nobody is about and I’ll call you Beth.’

‘Why have you got a blanket over your legs?’

‘It’s not a blanket, it’s a rug and the doctor said I have to keep warm. I’m not very strong, you see.’

‘You’re lucky,’ Beth said enviously, ‘having a little house to play in.’

‘It’s a summer house. Mattie doesn’t like being outside, she’d stay in the schoolroom for ever, but when the weather is good I make her come out.’

‘My mummy says it isn’t good to get all your own way.’

‘I don’t have a mummy, she went to heaven when I was born.’

Beth thought that was dreadful, not to have a mummy. ‘Who looks after you?’

‘Well, daddy does of course, then there’s my nanny, she was daddy’s nanny when he was a little boy.’

‘She must be very old,’ said Beth who was greatly taken up with age.

‘I expect so.’

‘My mummy and daddy are old.’

‘Nanny must be a hundred.’

‘My daddy’s more than that, he’s a hundred and something.’ A movement caught her eye. ‘She’s coming, your governess,’ Beth said, alarm in her voice,
‘and my mummy will be cross if she’s waiting for me.’

‘You’ll come back? Please say you will?’ There was a pleading note in the voice.

‘I’ll try.’

‘Try very hard.’

Beth nodded, then ran back through the hedge and didn’t stop running until she was in sight of the kitchen. At that moment the door opened with Harriet saying her goodbyes. She was
carrying Beth’s coat and the empty egg box.

‘There you are, Beth, slip on your coat quickly or daddy will be home and no meal ready for him.’

George Brown was a mild-mannered man who looked his age. He was of medium build with the beginning of a paunch and had a pleasant face, though it was marred by worry lines.
Most of his worries were matters over which he had no control. Disasters that made newspaper headlines gave George sleepless nights. Other people would shake their head and be suitably shocked, but
not unduly concerned since it wasn’t happening on their doorstep.

When her father joined Beth at the table he had changed out of his dark blue business suit into clerical grey which was more suitable for his duties as a lay preacher.

‘Did you work hard at school today, Beth?’ he asked as he always did.

‘Yes, daddy.’

Harriet was flushed with hurrying. ‘Sorry, dear, I spent rather too long at Inverbrae,’ she said as she came out of the tiny scullery that was off the kitchen.

‘That’s all right,’ he smiled, ‘I’m not in a desperate hurry.’

She served her husband his helping of meat, homegrown vegetables and fluffy boiled potatoes, then went back for her own and Beth’s. Harriet didn’t eat a lot and her portion was
small. Beth, who disliked meat, but had to eat it – how often had she heard about those poor starving people who would be glad of it and how often had she longed to say it, but didn’t
dare, that they were welcome to hers – had hers cut up small.

Swallowing the meat first was what she liked to do, then she could enjoy forking down the potatoes into the rich brown gravy. But not yet – not a knife or fork could be lifted until the
grace was said. Following her mother’s example Beth bowed her head, shut her eyes tight, and wished her daddy would say the words a bit quicker.

‘Amen.’ It came at last and she could open her eyes. Talking at the table wasn’t forbidden but it wasn’t encouraged either. Eating was a serious business. One piece of
meat on Beth’s plate had a horrible bit of fat hanging on to it. She tried to get it off with her knife but it stubbornly refused to move and the thought of it going down her throat right
into her stomach made her feel sick.

Harriet had been watching the performance and tut-tutted. ‘For goodness sake, child, it won’t poison you,’ she said as she forked it off Beth’s plate and on to her
own.

Beth gave a satisfied smile, ate the rest of her meal and decided now was a good time to tell them.

‘Mummy, daddy, I got a star for spelling and all my sums right and we got our places changed, and I’m top of the class,’ she said triumphantly.

‘Well done, Beth, you’re a clever girl,’ her father said, his fork arrested half way to his mouth.

‘Yes, well done, dear,’ her mother added.

‘Keep it up, lass, stick into your lessons, there’s nothing to beat a good education.’ He nodded several times as if to emphasise the point.

Harriet agreed wholeheartedly with her husband. If any good came out of that dreadful war, it was the difference it had made to women. They were just beginning to enjoy a freedom never
experienced before. The war years had seen women doing men’s work, like driving trucks, working on munitions, and they had shown themselves to be every bit as capable as men. Now there was a
marked reluctance to return to the drudgery and boredom of housework and men returning from the war in 1918 were shocked, angered and bewildered to face wives no longer willing to go back to what
had been, for them, the bad old days.

Young girls like Beth were the most likely to benefit. No longer would the choice of job be limited to a factory, going into service, or standing behind a counter. The dull jobs would still
require to be filled but the less intelligent or those lacking in ambition would be available to do them. The brighter girls would be demanding the right to be as well educated as their
brothers.

Before her marriage, Harriet had worked long hours in a draper’s shop for a pittance and like everyone else had just accepted her lot, although in her case she had much to be grateful for.
She had her Prayer Meetings where she could have intelligent discussions with like-minded people.

It was half past eight and Beth’s bedtime. She’d had her glass of milk and taken as long over it as she could, then said her goodnights. The room that was her
bedroom was small with the walls painted cream and pretty pink and white curtains at the window. Her narrow bed had brass knobs and beside the bed was a small table with a weak leg. A bookcase had
been fashioned out of a wooden box and there was a rag rug to protect small feet from the cold linoleum.

Her mother came up to hear her say her prayers, then Beth climbed into bed. She wished now that she had told her mother straight away about Caroline at the Big House, and she couldn’t
remember why she hadn’t. She would have to now, she couldn’t go to sleep without telling her.

Harriet was busy folding up Beth’s clothes and putting them on the chair. The school clothes went in the wardrobe since tomorrow was Saturday, and the soiled blouse she took with her for
the wash. Beth was sitting up.

‘Mummy?’

‘Yes, dear?’

‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

‘Hurry, then, I have a pile of ironing to do.’

‘I saw the little girl and she spoke to me.’

‘Who spoke to you?’

‘Mummy, I’ve just told you,’ Beth said impatiently. Why was it that grownups didn’t have to pay attention and children had to? ‘The little girl from the Big
House.’

She had her mother’s attention now. ‘Where was this?’

‘You know that place where the high hedge is?’

‘Yes, I do know and you’ve been warned not to stray over that way,’ Harriet said severely.

‘I didn’t know I was walking that way, I just came to it, mummy, and I found a hole in the hedge that I can squeeze into.’

‘Why would you want to do that?’ The eyebrows shot up.

‘’Cos I heard someone and I just wanted to peep through.’ She paused and her eyes widened. ‘And that was when I saw the little girl.’

‘And obviously she saw you. Really, Beth, that was too bad of you.’

‘I wasn’t hiding and I wouldn’t have spoken to her only she spoke to me first.’

‘Wondering what you were doing there, no doubt?’

Beth ignored that. How did her mummy know, anyway? ‘It was nice and warm and do you know this, the girl had a blanket over her legs only she said it wasn’t a blanket, that it was a
rug and it was because she had been ill. That’s funny isn’t it, mummy, calling it a rug when rugs go on the floor?’

Harriet didn’t trouble to answer. ‘If I had been looking for you I would have been frantic wondering where you’d got to.’

‘I didn’t stay long and I told her you were with Mrs Noble and she said she was their cook and you would likely be there for ages.’

Harriet’s lips twitched.

‘And I ran all the way back,’ Beth said as if that made everything all right.

‘Very well, we’ll say no more about it.’

Beth was on the verge of tears. ‘She’s called Caroline and I like her and she likes me and she made me promise to come back and I said I would try and she said I had to try very hard
– and – and – and—’ The eyes brightened and the tears overflowed. ‘Why can’t I play with her? I haven’t got anyone to play with.’

Harriet handed her own handkerchief to Beth. ‘Wipe your eyes. I didn’t expect a big girl like you to act like a baby.’

Beth used the handkerchief. ‘I’m not a baby,’ she sniffed.

Harriet did feel some guilt. Only a very few of the school children lived up their way and no one in Beth’s class. Some lived in the centre of the village beside the Main Street, but most
were in the fishermen’s cottages clustered down beside the harbour. Harriet knew she wouldn’t have a moment’s peace if she allowed Beth to play there. It was much too
dangerous.

‘When you are a little older you can play with your school friends.’

‘I’d rather play with Caroline.’

Harriet sighed. ‘Although I have nothing against you playing with the girl, I doubt if she would be allowed to play with you.’

‘Why not?’ The tears had gone and there was outrage in her voice.

‘You would not be considered suitable.’

‘I would so, but she can’t ask her mummy because she hasn’t got one. Did you know that, mummy?’

‘Yes, Beth, I knew that.’ She well remembered the village’s grief when the young woman had died in childbirth.

‘Next time you go with eggs, it’ll be Friday, won’t it?’

‘More than likely.’

‘I can just go and see if she’s there, can’t I?’ she pleaded. ‘Please, mummy, and you did say promises had to be kept.’

‘Very well, but you are not to be forward or make a nuisance of yourself.’

Beth didn’t know what forward meant but the importa