out.
Near her, where the skirting board joined the floor, was a small jagged hole where a mouse lived. Her mother had set a trap many times, but no mouse was ever caught. Dolly sometimes wondered if this were in answer to her fervent, but silent, prayers on these occasions. Each night, kneeling on the hard floor with her face muffled in the side of the white counterpane, she had chanted:
God bless Mummy,
God bless Daddy,
Aunties and Uncles,
And all kind friends,
And make me a GOOD girl,
For Jesus Christ's sake
Amen.
On the nights when the trap was set, she added fiercely and silently:
'And PLEASE DON'T let the mouse get caught,' before leaping into bed beside Ada, and drawing up the clothes.
Now, she thought, the mouse could have the whole house to live in, and would never see a trap again.
She wandered to the window and looked out into the back garden. Ada was trying to stand on her hands, supporting her legs against the fence. It was strange to think she would never do that again here. Dolly turned to look at the room again. It seemed to be waiting, it was so quiet and eerie. She felt as if she were intruding, as if the place she stood in were no longer hers.
Soon she heard her parents calling.
'Come on, Ada and Dolly! It's all ready now. Let's get you dressed.'
Within half an hour they were off.
Nearly seventy years later, the details of that amazing journey still remained clear in Miss Clare's memory. There had been an iron step, she remembered, to climb on in order to get into the cart. It was shiny with a hundred boot-scrapings, and had a crescent-shaped hole in it through which one had a terrifying glimpse of the road below.
Jim, Mary and the two children squeezed together on the plank seat that ran across the cart. Dolly felt most unsafe, for her feet would not reach the floor. Emily was tucked by her, but Jim said she had better be put in the back.
'Ain't no room for us to breathe, let alone your dolly,' said Jim cheerfully. 'Give 'er 'ere.'
He clambered down again and Dolly reluctantly handed Emily, in her red cape, into his huge knobbly hand. He went to the rear of the cart and propped Emily up in a chair.
'There she be,' called Jim. 'Now 'er's got a clear view of the road.'
Satisfied, Dolly settled down to present delights. The horse's massive brown haunches, moving just below her, fascinated the child. Leather squeaked, brass jingled, wooden wheels rumbled, and die whole cart seemed alive with movement and noises.
A gentle climb, from the river valley where Caxley lay, occupied the first mile or so of the journey. The sun was high now, and from her lofty seat Dolly could see over the hedges into the meadows. They steamed gently in the growing heat, for they were wet from overnight rain.
About half a mile before it entered the village of Beech Green the road plunged down a short steep bill between high banks topped with massive beech trees. It was the first time that the child had seen great roots writhing out of the soil like underground branches. It seemed to make this new world even more strange and foreign.
'Nearly there,' said her mother, putting a steadying arm round Dolly, so that she did not slide forward on to Belle's great back. 'You'll see your new home soon.'
They emerged from the tunnel of trees and began to rumble through the scattered village. Ada noticed the school standing back from the road. A few children, playing in the dinner hour, watched their progress, and one Child waved. Ada waved back energetically, but Dolly was too timid.
Their own house lay half a mile or so further, on the outskirts of Beech Green. Three miles further still lay the village of Fairacre where so much of little Dolly's life was to be spent.
Dolly's spirits rose with every turn of the wheel that took her further from Caxley. The light breeze stirred her hair, hanging now, almost to her shoulders, in blessed holiday freedom. The inevitable had happened at the Caxley school. The propinquity of
Near her, where the skirting board joined the floor, was a small jagged hole where a mouse lived. Her mother had set a trap many times, but no mouse was ever caught. Dolly sometimes wondered if this were in answer to her fervent, but silent, prayers on these occasions. Each night, kneeling on the hard floor with her face muffled in the side of the white counterpane, she had chanted:
God bless Mummy,
God bless Daddy,
Aunties and Uncles,
And all kind friends,
And make me a GOOD girl,
For Jesus Christ's sake
Amen.
On the nights when the trap was set, she added fiercely and silently:
'And PLEASE DON'T let the mouse get caught,' before leaping into bed beside Ada, and drawing up the clothes.
Now, she thought, the mouse could have the whole house to live in, and would never see a trap again.
She wandered to the window and looked out into the back garden. Ada was trying to stand on her hands, supporting her legs against the fence. It was strange to think she would never do that again here. Dolly turned to look at the room again. It seemed to be waiting, it was so quiet and eerie. She felt as if she were intruding, as if the place she stood in were no longer hers.
Soon she heard her parents calling.
'Come on, Ada and Dolly! It's all ready now. Let's get you dressed.'
Within half an hour they were off.
Nearly seventy years later, the details of that amazing journey still remained clear in Miss Clare's memory. There had been an iron step, she remembered, to climb on in order to get into the cart. It was shiny with a hundred boot-scrapings, and had a crescent-shaped hole in it through which one had a terrifying glimpse of the road below.
Jim, Mary and the two children squeezed together on the plank seat that ran across the cart. Dolly felt most unsafe, for her feet would not reach the floor. Emily was tucked by her, but Jim said she had better be put in the back.
'Ain't no room for us to breathe, let alone your dolly,' said Jim cheerfully. 'Give 'er 'ere.'
He clambered down again and Dolly reluctantly handed Emily, in her red cape, into his huge knobbly hand. He went to the rear of the cart and propped Emily up in a chair.
'There she be,' called Jim. 'Now 'er's got a clear view of the road.'
Satisfied, Dolly settled down to present delights. The horse's massive brown haunches, moving just below her, fascinated the child. Leather squeaked, brass jingled, wooden wheels rumbled, and die whole cart seemed alive with movement and noises.
A gentle climb, from the river valley where Caxley lay, occupied the first mile or so of the journey. The sun was high now, and from her lofty seat Dolly could see over the hedges into the meadows. They steamed gently in the growing heat, for they were wet from overnight rain.
About half a mile before it entered the village of Beech Green the road plunged down a short steep bill between high banks topped with massive beech trees. It was the first time that the child had seen great roots writhing out of the soil like underground branches. It seemed to make this new world even more strange and foreign.
'Nearly there,' said her mother, putting a steadying arm round Dolly, so that she did not slide forward on to Belle's great back. 'You'll see your new home soon.'
They emerged from the tunnel of trees and began to rumble through the scattered village. Ada noticed the school standing back from the road. A few children, playing in the dinner hour, watched their progress, and one Child waved. Ada waved back energetically, but Dolly was too timid.
Their own house lay half a mile or so further, on the outskirts of Beech Green. Three miles further still lay the village of Fairacre where so much of little Dolly's life was to be spent.
Dolly's spirits rose with every turn of the wheel that took her further from Caxley. The light breeze stirred her hair, hanging now, almost to her shoulders, in blessed holiday freedom. The inevitable had happened at the Caxley school. The propinquity of
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