Sin of Pride

By Bunny Mitchell

I the village of Walmsley, May is a well-respected teacher until an act of kindness is misconstrued. It leads to a chain of events that hurtles her into a very different life; one of poverty and danger.
The area around Dick Street is notorious for crime. It is peopled by thieves, beggars, ruffians and prostitutes; a place that even the police are loathe to go. and the biggest ruffian of all is Jack Liver.
When his attention settles on May, she is caught up in murder, abduction and violence. It is only her courage and determination that enables her to survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bunny Mitchell
• Release date: Jun 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311906465

Bunny Mitchell

Bunny Mitchell was a dancer before becoming a mother and later had a career as a cook. She made her home in Spain and America for several years before returning to England in 1998. She now lives in Sussex where she has grown to love the South Downs and the history of its people. Her novels encompass the folklores of the region and the colourful Sussex sayings that are in danger of dying out. She has three published novels (The Farthing Mark and A Magpie Mourning and Blind Bargain)and her fourth,Sweet Thunder, is soon to be released For many years Bunny Mitchell has encouraged and helped many to write their autobiographies. She founded the Bexhill Writers’ Forum in 2002 which she still runs.

Book preview

Prologue

Crowds had gathered at the harbour to watch the ship leave; a ship that held the packing-case possessions and dreams of hundreds of passengers seeking a better life in New Zealand.

Among them were six nervously excited young women going there to marry men they had never met. Each was dressed soberly in serviceable clothes made of strong serge, their hats of plain straw discretely beribboned.

Passers-by may have wondered about the woman who accompanied them; a slim woman of middle years, who would have been exquisitely beautiful save for a puckered scar that ran from the outer edge of her left eye to the corner of her mouth. It made her smile slightly lopsided and gave a quirky expression to her mobile face.

The girls were rendered speechless by the immensity of the teeming port. Their eyes darted from one sight to another. Backed by square blocks of warehouses, the wharf was alive with rumbling carts and high loaded wagons. Streams of men passed backwards and forwards with cases of oranges or bulging sacks on their backs, bending beneath their load. Cranes projected over the wharf, bales of goods hanging from them, dangling in the air. The noise was deafening; the rattle of some chain suddenly let go, men shouting orders, passengers as they climbed the ship's gangway calling out goodbyes to loved ones.

Incoming waves scrawled dark furrows on the grey sea, getting bigger and bigger as the wind grew stronger. Lug-boats and empty lighters riding high in the water were being tossed to and fro, dwarfed by the huge foreign steamer with a squat, black funnel belching smoke. They gazed in awe at this ship that was to take them to their new life.

'It'll be rough out there today with all this wind,' said the smallest of the girls. 'It's a durned long way we're going ain't it? A country at the bottom of the world and it'll be bloody weeks afore we get there!'

'Well, you're not travelling alone. You've got each other for company so I'm sure you'll manage,' the woman said. What with the din and a strong wind carrying away her words, she had to shout to make herself heard. 'And do remember what I told you about your language, Nellie. You don't want to make yourself look cheap, do you?'

'I can't 'elp meself, Mrs Sweeting. I'm allus the same when I gets nervous.'

The ships hooter blasted the air.

'Well, this is it girls. Time to say goodbye.'

Phoebe, the eldest, took Mrs Sweeting's hand. 'Thanks for all you've done for us,' she said, her eyes threatening to spill. 'If it wasn't for you, we—'

'Enough. You all thanked me before we left the house.' She put her mouth near Phoebe's ear. 'Try not to cry, dear, or you'll start the others off. And keep an eye on Nancy, will you? There'll be plenty of temptations on such a long journey and you know what she's like.'

Phoebe nodded as her companions clustered round them to say their goodbyes. Nellie clung to Mrs Sweeting for so long that she had to gently disengage herself. 'Remember to write to me. Let me know how you get on,' she said, wiping a handkerchief over Nellie's cheeks. 'You know I shall be thinking about you all.'

She watched them as they gingerly made their way onto the ship and searched the deck until she could pick them out from the hordes of passengers lining the ship's rail. They were hanging on to their hats and energetically waving to her. She waved back, glad they couldn't see that, in spite of her good intentions, she too had succumbed to tears.

At last the ship set sail. She watched the broad track of the departing ship and the figures on the deck as they grew smaller and lost their identity. And she stayed there until the ship had sailed so far she could hardly see it.

Only then did she turn away. She was going to miss those girls. Yes, and worry about them too, worry more than she cared to show. But she knew that her work was not over because she had no doubt there would be many more to take their place.

CHAPTER ONE

Lady Millicent Wolfe had considerable wealth. It had always been the case but she showed little interest in money. Quite frankly, it bored her and so she had spent the last half hour gazing out the rectory window, a faraway vacant look on her face, while the school governors were going over the accounts. They were now discussing the question of whether the funds would allow the purchase of more slates and primers.

At forty three, Lady Wolfe was a woman of style and grace who had once been a great beauty. Those days had gone but she still retained her love of elegant clothes and good jewellery. Today, she had chosen to encase her slim body in a dress of fine, green silk and with it she wore a wide-brimmed hat, garnished with an overabundance of pink roses.

She found these meetings not only a bore but a source of irritation. As the only woman on the board, it was assumed that her interest lay only in presenting merit prizes and playing the lady bountiful when it came to the annual school outing. To some extent this was true.

She was wondering what she should wear to her sister's soirée next week and whether the new green shoes would complement her favourite apricot gown. So lost was she in these thoughts, that when Augustus Cruikshank made a little coughing noise to attract her attention and followed it with an enquiring, 'Lady Wolfe?' she was abruptly jolted from her musings.

'I'm sorry, what did you say?' she asked, her finely arched brows rising.

Augustus had been a Justice of the Peace for thirty years, had the self-confident air of a successful man and was known for his lack of patience. He rubbed at the fringe of white whiskers that bristled from under his chin, stretching from ear to ear, and let out a deep sigh.

'I said the next item on the agenda is the appointment of a new teacher and asked you your views… that's if you have any.' He looked across the table at William Winstock and gave a sly smile.

Lady Wolfe, fingering the brooch that kept her elegant dress fastened, sat up straighter and lifted her chin. 'I think we should appoint Miss Spencer and have done with it,' she said, wondering why it needed to be discussed. It wasn't as if they had any other candidate.

The Reverend Constant Lamb tapped the report that he had been reading. 'She has been a pupil teacher for four years and an assistant teacher for the past twelve months.' He pursed his lips as he considered. 'Miss Ticehurst has given a written attestation as to competency and she has passed all of her exams with distinction.'

'She is only nineteen but she has plenty of confidence and I believe Miss Ticehurst has trained her well,' said William Winstock, the fourth member of the board. He was the local doctor, a tall angular man with piercing green eyes and a sandy beard that did little to compensate for a shiny, bald head.

'Is she morally sound?'

'She does come from a good, hardworking family,' said the doctor. 'The Spencer's in Pimberton. Father and sons have made coffins since as far back as I can remember. Mother died giving birth some years ago.'

'She's a fine looking woman,' Lady Wolfe added, thinking about the tall willowy, assistant teacher with a waist like a wasp and glowing dark hair that reminded her of her own at that age. All May Spencer's features were small and delicate, she had noticed, apart from the eyes that were huge and brilliant. 'Yes, quite a beauty,'

It was a remark the men largely ignored.

There was a downward droop to Augustus's mouth as he concentrated on the report before him. 'It's a pity Miss Ticehurst has given in her notice. Why she wants to get married at her time of life is beyond me. Miss Spencer seems like an earnest young woman but if you don't agree we could advertise the post.'

'What is the point of that?' asked Lady Wolfe, again raising her brows. 'Miss Spencer has been trained here in this school for the very position. She knows the children and the standards we require.'

'She is also a young woman, I think, that will go far,' said William.

'She seems to have a flair for teaching.' added the Reverend.

'At least she doesn't regard the children as wild beasts requiring brutal training.' Lady Wolfe didn't say 'unlike Miss Tippett' but they all knew to whom she was referring. They chose to make no answer but went on as though she hadn't made the comment.

'For my pennyworth I think we should appoint her, see how she goes,' said William. 'We can always consider a replacement if it doesn't work out.'

'I would second that,' said the Reverend, fumbling for a moment at his frockcoat buttoned tightly across his portly stomach. He took out his watch and glanced at the time, anxious to get things settled as he had a number of parish visits to make.

'Are we agreed then?' Augustus looked from one to another. 'Do we need a show of hands?'

'I should hardly think so,' said Lady Wolfe, always vexed by the man's pedantic nature.

Augustus closed the book and removed his spectacles. 'Well, in that case, there is the little matter of the school house. Do we give it to Miss Spencer or do we have to consider Miss Tippett?' He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, and steepled his bony fingers. 'She has made it abundantly clear that she wishes to move there when Miss Ticehurst vacates it.'

'Miss Tippett made her wishes abundantly clear when the teacher before Miss Ticehurst – whatever her name was – resigned ten years ago,' observed the Reverend, dryly.

'And we all know why. The benefit of a house free from rent, rates or taxes is not to be sniffed at,' added William.

The Reverend said, 'I cannot think of any good reason why Miss Spencer should not have the benefit. Not to put too fine a point on it, Miss Tippett is of an age when she will soon be retiring. It will save us a deal of trouble later on if we simply allocate it to Miss Spencer now and have done with it.'

'Yes, that's quite true. But let's hear what Lady Wolfe has to say.' William turned his head and looked enquiringly at Lady Wolfe.

She took a moment or two to answer. 'Miss Tippett lives right opposite the school and Miss Spencer has some three miles to walk before she gets here. Added to that is the journey home again at the end of the day. She cannot give of her best with this extra burden.' She forced a smile, expecting her comments to be again disregarded.

'She has managed to do well enough so far,' said Augustus.

'Be that as it may, an assistant teacher doesn't have the responsibilities of a schoolmistress.'

Augustus was doubtful and gave a rueful shake of his head. 'But if we decide in favour of Miss Spencer, there'll be ructions, I shouldn't wonder. Miss Tippett is bound to be aggrieved.'

'And there will be talk in the village, no doubt,' added William.

The Reverend sipped his tea and helped himself from the plateful of thin arrowroot biscuits. 'It doesn't matter what people will say. We shouldn't even be taking that into consideration. Our priority should be the welfare of the children and Lady Wolfe's observation that a teacher needs to be fit and alert was quite right,' he said, through a mouthful of crumbs.

Lady Wolfe gave a satisfied nod of her head in acknowledgment.

'There I agree with you. Miss Tippett is going to be upset but so be it. I need hardly say, that it is not our concern,' said William.

'I will tell you my thoughts on the matter,' said the Reverend, brushing the crumbs from his lap. 'We have given it considerable thought and nothing more will be served by further discussion. I propose that we should now take a vote.'

William agreed. 'Them's my sentiments.'

Augustus sat back in his chair and sighed. 'Very well. All in favour?'

Four hands were raised.

'That's that then.' Augustus stood up to leave. 'We shall just have to see how things turn out.'

CHAPTER TWO

'Class dismissed…Not you, Sidney Cogman, or Tilly and Emma Sweeting.'

'Good afternoon, Miss Spencer,' the children chanted in unison before leaving the side of their desks and filing row by row out of the schoolroom under May's watchful eye. Like birds released from a cage they noisily squawked and chattered as soon as they were through the door.

'Emma and Tilly, wait outside until I call you.'

The two sisters, delicate and fair, solemn and wide-eyed with apprehension, crept outside.

May crooked her finger towards Sidney and assuming the stern voice that she kept for such occasions said, 'Come here.'

Sidney scuffed his way to her desk, his hands in his pockets. He knew he was about to get the sharp end of his teacher's tongue but that was nothing unusual.

'I'm very disappointed in you, Sidney…. Take your hands out of your pockets and look at me when I'm speaking to you.'

Sidney withdrew his hands and his eyes when they looked up at her were bold.

'You, Sidney, have behaved in a vulgar and ungentlemanly manner in the playground today. It is behaviour that is very unbecoming and I will not tolerate it. What have you got to say for yourself?'

Sidney thought for a bit and shrugged his shoulders. 'Well, Miss, I couldn't 'elp meself. It were that funny.' Even now he was fighting a losing battle with the laughter that was bubbling up inside him.

Sidney, nine years old, was the most unruly member of May's class and she was often at a loss to know how to deal with him.

'Are you going to give me the cane, Miss?'

May looked at him, pursing her lips as she considered the possibility. Unlike Miss Tippett, who was only too quick to punish her class, May would only use the cane as a last resource and she knew that in the case of Sidney Cogman it would not make one scrap of difference. He had an irrepressible sense of humour and a resistance to schooling that made May despair of ever getting any learning into his head.

She had once spoken to his parents about his poor attendance and lack of discipline and got short shrift for her pains. It was obvious that he was the product of his father's attitude and his mother was not much better.

'No, Sidney,' she said at last. 'We'll leave it at that for the time being. But let this be a warning. Unless you apply yourself to your lessons, instead of fooling around, being a nuisance and upsetting the other pupils, you will not pass your exams at the end of the year and I will not give you a good report.'

Sidney once again shrugged his shoulders and his cheeky smile surfaced again. 'No, Miss. Can I go now?'

'Yes, but heed my words, Sidney. I shall not be as lenient with you another time.'

'No, Miss,' he said and cheerfully added, 'Good afternoon, Miss,' before putting his hands back in his pockets and strolling down between the desks.

'And tell Emma and Tilly they may come in now,' she called after him before he disappeared through the door.

A moment later Emma peered into the room and with Tilly hanging onto her skirt, timorously approached May's desk. They were thin little girls with white faces and huge sombre eyes.

May moved her chair to the side of the desk and sat down. She had found that she was always more approachable to the little ones if she put herself on their level.

'Would you mind telling me, Emma, why Tilly isn't wearing any drawers?' This time her voice was gentle. Emma was seven and Tilly, five. They had just lost their mother and Tilly hadn't spoken since she had died. For weeks she had sat in class with a paralyzed frozen look on her little face and no amount of cajoling had encouraged her to speak.

'Cos they're in her bag, Miss.'

'And why are they in her bag and not covering her bottom?'

May waited for Emma to explain and when she did, it was in a whisper, as if she didn't want Tilly to hear. 'It's because she doesn't want to make a mistake in them. It's since Ma went to heaven. She was all right up till then.'

Tilly's eyes filled with tears. May reached out to the child and sat her on her lap. 'I can understand that, but couldn't you bring a spare in case that happens?'

Emma chewed on her thumb for a moment and said, 'She's only got the one pair. We both have….'

For a moment, May didn't know what to say. As Tilly rested her head against her shoulder, she stroked the fine golden hair and asked, 'So how do you manage when they need to be washed?'

'Mrs Trendle, who lives next door, does our washing on a Saturday and we have to stay indoors all weekend till they're dried. She says we can't go outside or we'll get a cold in our eyes.' Emma stretched out her hands with the palms upwards and her little fingers splayed. 'But we've been outside a few times and we can still see all right, can't we Tilly?'

May tried to stifle a smile but didn't quite make it. 'Well, I don't think it's a very good idea for Tilly not to wear her drawers. After all, if she makes a mistake when she's not wearing them, her petticoats and skirt will get wet and that would be even worse wouldn't it? If Tilly had been wearing her drawers today we wouldn't have had that upset in the playground. When the wind blew Tilly's skirts up we could see her bare bottom. Sidney shouldn't have laughed and made the remarks he did. It was totally uncalled for, and I have spoken to him about it, but we mustn't put ourselves in the position where it could happen again, must we?'

'No, Miss.'

'Very well…. Now, remember what I have said and make sure she is properly dressed when you come to school tomorrow.'

***

The village of Pimberton, where May had grown up, was much smaller than Walmsley. It was not much more than a huddle of grey stone cottages and a few straying buildings. The family home was on the north side of the village, built on a slight rise with the Downs billowing even higher behind it.

Even though she now lived in the schoolhouse, she would always think of Big House as home. It had been called Big House, not because it was bigger than most, even though it was if you didn't count the vicarage, Ravenswood farmhouse or Mr and Mrs Ardmore's. No, it was called Big House because, at the bottom of the garden, was Little House.

Her grandfather had built Big House and lived there until her father had got married when he had built Little House for him and his bride. But May's mother had borne more children than had been anticipated and by the time Grandfather Spencer had retired the family had outgrown Little House.

It was then that it was decided to swap houses. Little House was just the right size for Granny and Granddad to manage in their later years and Granny continued to live there after Granddad died. But when she showed signs of dementia, and couldn't manage on her own, it was decided to bring her up to Big House. It had meant rearranging the bedrooms; Freddy and Father now slept in Little House and poor Violet had to share a room with Granny.

May enjoyed going home but she was in no hurry to get there. After being shut up in the classroom all week, it was good to feel the sun on her face. She understood the reason why schoolrooms were built with the windows set high up in the walls. It was to prevent children looking out and being distracted from their lessons. But May considered that there were as many lessons to be learned outside the schoolroom as in and she had decided right from the beginning – and that was two years ago – that she would always find space in the curriculum to take the children on nature walks.

It had caused quite a stir at the time. Miss Tippett didn't believe in such a thing and said it was a waste of time; the children came to school for their reading, writing and arithmetic. It needed to be drummed into them and the classroom was the only place where you could keep them completely under control. In May's opinion, Miss Tippett was convinced that a teacher's responsibility was to break a child's spirit and make him learn to bend.

May couldn't agree with this view. You couldn't beat knowledge into a child's head. It was more important to make lessons interesting and relevant. There had been more than one heated discussion on the subject.

So she had been out with the children during the week, and she had felt the sun on her face, but a walk with thirty children was not exactly a relaxing experience. Today she was able to savour the freedom of being alone with her own thoughts and enjoy a tranquil, leisurely stroll home.

On the village green, she stopped by the torpid waters of the pond, with its beds of reed-mace and floating carpet of duckweed, to watch three ducks swimming there. She passed the time of day with Mrs Broadbent of Millwood farm, waved a greeting to Miss Evesham, the postmistress, who was trimming the roses that grew outside the Post Office door and then took the upward sloping lane that led her home.

Violet was on her knees scrubbing the kitchen floor when she arrived. It was midday and the sun was at its highest.

'Hello, Vi,' she said, from the open doorway. She knew better than to walk on Violet's wet floor.

Violet looked over her shoulder, her face flushed with the heat and her exertions. She was surprised to see May standing there. 'Oh, Hello!' she said. 'What brings you here?'

'Do I have to have a reason?'

'No, of course not. Hang on, I'll be with you in a moment.'

'Don't rush. I'll go over and see Pa while you're doing that.'

'Yes, do that and then I'll put the kettle on.'

May crossed the yard, picking her way between the piles of wood stacked for seasoning, walked round the edge of the sawpit, full of sawdust, and paused for a moment before entering her father's workshop.

It wasn't that she didn't want to see her father but she always had to brace herself. He had always had his good days and well as the bad ones, when his gammy leg was causing him pain, but he seemed to be more morose of late. He had never been the same since Ma had died but she thought that something else was now bothering him. Perhaps it was because his eyesight was getting worse and he was forced to leave a lot of the work to Josh and Freddy.

'Hello, Pa,' she said as soon as she walked through the door. 'How are you feeling today?'

'Fair to middlin' he replied, his voice sounding flat and weary. 'What's brought you up here today?'

'Violet has just asked me that. I simply wanted to see you, that's all… Oh, Hello Josh. I didn't see you there.'

Josh had been bending behind the big, solid workbench that took up the centre of the workshop. He was the eldest of her brothers, always smiling, and her favourite. Freddy was good humoured too but he didn't have the kind streak that Josh possessed and Jack… well, she didn't see him very often, not since he had gone to London to work.

Josh's face broke into a grin when he saw her. 'Hello, May. How's life treating you? Those children not given you grey hairs yet?'

May laughed and put a hand up to her abundant dark hair. 'Not yet, but give them time… Where's Freddy?'

'He's over at Millwood farm doing some fencing repair.'

'I saw Mrs Broadbent in the village. She didn't mention it.'

Josh laughed. 'We sent him up there to give us a break from his constant jokes.'

'Is he still playing the fool?'

'Of course. What do you think of this then?' He stood back and spread out his arms, like a conjuror, to indicate the fine, oak coffin he was working on. 'It's for Percy Button. Ordered